


Resist, Protect, Defend

by Macx



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on LadyIrina's AU and OC, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, M/M, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, The slowest burn the Eye ever did see, mandorin, protective!Mandalorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 119,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: The Mandalorian knew it had been a bad idea to take the job, but they had needed the cash.He realized it had been a catastrophic idea when the child is missing, and with it its assigned guardian.Corin did everything to resist, not to tell the hunters where the child is.Now he is running.Protect the child.That's all he can think of.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian/Corin
Comments: 1311
Kudos: 1692
Collections: Suggested Good Reads





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rescue and Regret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648874) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> I've never written Star Wars. The universe is so far outside my comfort zone, it's no longer funny. I loved the (originally) first three movies, but the rest never really touched me again.
> 
> Until The Mandalorian. I think a lot of people say the exact same three words… 
> 
> That series hit me out of the left field and left me wanting more and more. I want to watch it in a theater and squeal over all the tiny little things here or there!
> 
> LadyIrina's fic series was something I didn't know I wanted until I read it. I was reluctant to introduce an OC, even though I had the desire to write Mandadlorian, but then LadyIrina's Corin happened and I grabbed him and ran away with him.
> 
> LadyIrina: all my love for giving us this loveable OC! The moment I want to h/c an OC is when I love him enough to see him as canon!
> 
> Hope this fic can do him justice.
> 
> Corin is LadyIrina's. She created this wonderful OC and I'm just playing with him with her permission.

_Protect the child._

_Protect the child._

_At all cost._

_No matter what._

The words kept running through his head as he staggered and stumbled through the semi-dark, along the walls, no idea where he was going.

No matter what they did to him, he had to protect the child.

His own life was worthless, would be worthless if anything happened to the kid. The Mandalorian would kill him should those hunters get their hands on the little guy.

He had safely hidden him inside the ship, made sure no one and nothing could get in, but they had tried to anyway.

They had first threatened, then beaten and finally drugged him to get to the bounty, but he hadn't broken. Physical intimidation hadn't been successful, so they had used the chemical kind. The drugs were still in his system and he was fighting not to throw up or just collapse, whatever came first.

Black spots began swimming before his eyes.

Corin knew his time was running out, that he was hunted, that they would soon find him, and then find the child.

He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat, forcing his bruised, battered and bleeding form to take another step and then another.

He had to get back…

His vision blurred and for a moment his thoughts blanked, and he just about kept himself from planting face first into a wall.

_Protect the child._

He had to protect the child.

It was… was… where was the child?

Panic raced through him, those blurry thoughts running into one another, and suddenly fear and panic was all he knew.

They had the child! They had kidnapped it. And him. And now he was running to… to… running to what? From whom?

All he knew was that he had to run.

Was the child with him?

Vertigo hit him and short-term memory went with it as the drugs wreaked havoc with his ability to function. His sense of body and self was very much screwed. He didn't know what really hurt and where, and he had no clear idea what. On a better day he might have comprehended that the drugs were messing him up more and more, but as it was, he had no clue.

_Protect the child._

Something suddenly loomed up in front of him and he recoiled, adrenaline spiking, mixing with the drugs into a dangerous concoction.

He thought he heard the child gurgle and his protective instincts screamed. There was danger and it was after his charge. The Mandalorian had entrusted the little being into his care and he wouldn't… couldn’t… fail.

No one had ever shown him this much trust. No one had ever relied on him to fulfill such an important role. No one had ever launched such conflicting emotions inside Corin than this one man.

Just one man.

This man.

Someone who could be distant and cold when dealing with others, then again warm and loving when he handled the child; all the while wearing a featureless helmet that prevented anyone from ever seeing even the slightest twitch of a muscle.

Corin wasn't a one man army. He wasn't Mandalorian. He wasn't even the best of his former, now dead, squad. He had only ever been the average, point-and-shoot guy. He had been lucky to meet the two beings who had changed, and saved, his life.

Now he would pay back the trust and kindness by doing whatever he could to protect the child to his dying breath.

So Corin ran, feverish mind convinced he was carrying the child.

He would keep it safe, at all cost, even his own life. His worthless, useless life.

*

He should have known.

He should have known not to come here, to trust an old acquaintance offering him a lucrative job.

He should have known to check everything, every little detail.

He hadn't.

He been careless.

Like a rookie. Worse than a rookie. Not worthy of wearing the armor, of calling himself a Mandalorian.

He had made several mistakes that had nearly cost him not just a hefty payment, which he needed to get fuel and supplies, but also had nearly lost him his ship.

And the kid.

Not to mention Corin

What should have been a quick in and out, grab the bounty and be done with it, had developed into a shoot-out, with five dead hunters that had thought their numbers were enough to take care of a Mandalorian.

They had been wrong.

He had come back to an incapacitated ship, and both Corin and the child gone missing.

For a long moment he had only heard his thundering heart, the blood roaring through his veins, then he had pushed back his emotional reaction.

Emotions were the enemy.

They got in the way.

Well, too bad that the mantra didn't work this time. He had emotions and they had developed in leaps ever since meeting the child; then Corin. A bounty and a former Stormtrooper.

The Mandalorian had been screwed the moment he had met those large, black eyes of his bounty. Something had happened to him that day, that very moment, and it had changed the course of his life, his destiny, his very thinking and all his actions. He couldn't explain it, couldn’t rationalize it, but he knew he would protect this small child to his dying breath. He would make sure that it survived, that it wouldn't fall into the hands of whoever wanted it dead or alive.

It was the first time the Mandalorian had ever attached emotions to a target, had let himself become involved on a personal level. He had known the second he had looked at the green being that taking its life was wrong. Absolutely wrong.

He had turned his back on the Guild.

But not on honor.

The child was very fixated on him and the Mandalorian had no idea why. Something about it was special, so very special. It had powers, had saved his life already, and he couldn't fathom what might become of the little guy as he grew into this abilities. It was force-sensitive, had learned to use that power despite having no teacher, but it didn't play around with his abilities either.

And then there was Corin. A former Stormtrooper, who had also saved the Mandalorian's life. Someone he had planned to get rid of on the next planet, but who had sacrificed himself to keep them safe. Someone who had told them to leave him, aware he was dying, that he wouldn't get help any time soon on his own. Someone who had looked for redemption and had found it in protecting a Mandalorian warrior and a tiny child of an unknown species.

And the child had insisted to go back and save him in turn. Healing him.

They had saved a former Imperial soldier; a man who had been the enemy. A man who had given them a heat blanket to keep the child from freezing. A man who had lied to his squad to give the Mandalorian a chance to escape. He had risked getting executed.

Why?

He had spared the soldier from execution not much later. The Mandalorian had no explanation as to why he had done it either. It had been the child, its insistence to approach the kneeling man who had been about to be shot in the head, recognizing him, wanting to save him.

And the Mandalorian had.

Because of the child.

Corin had turned into a good partner, capable, someone who wasn't just a drone, someone who wasn't trying to sell them out, someone who had had his back on several occasions… and someone who definitely wasn't a Mandalorian. He was anything but a Mandalorian. He hadn't been taught the Way. He didn't live the Way. It wasn't his religion, but he respected the Mandalorian's, even if he had been rather forward in touching the sliver of bare skin.

It had been the beginning of… something.

Something intense.

And it was something that burned low and continuously between them, flustering the Mandalorian more and more each time they were in close quarters.

Now he had lost them both.

The thought turned his mind to ice, had him feel a fury he had never experienced like that before.

A soft, barely audible sound had him freeze and he scanned the room until his eyes fell on the floor plating.

There was a coo and he instantly recognized it.

He found the child safely locked away in one of the compartments used to smuggle more valuable things, safe and sound, happy to see him and babbling excitedly. There was a blanket, toys, a small bottle to keep him hydrated, and a ration bar. His favorite flavor.

Corin had hidden him here, kept him safe, and he was gone.

"What happened to Corin?" he asked the little guy.

He whimpered, ducking his head into the robes, and the large ears drooped.

The Mandalorian cursed silently in his head.

This was bad.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I love you all so much! Thank you for the positive feedback! Here, have more h/c!

There had been no doubt in his mind that he would go out and find his missing crew. There had never been a single moment of hesitation, of second thoughts, weighing the risk against the reward.

The Mandalorian had simply known that leaving Corin behind wasn't an option. The mere thought met resistance and denial. For a man who had lived his life as solitary as possible, rarely part of a team, even more rarely joining his tribe for more than the time that was needed to modify his armor, the Mandalorian had become quickly attached to his companion. Companions. Family.

So he had torn through the base, looking for the missing part of his little crew. Six bodies were left in his wake.

No sign of Corin, though.

He had questioned one of the kidnappers, who had revealed their prisoner's location just before the Mandalorian had gotten rid of him, too.

The room had been empty, the lock clearly cracked from the inside.

A moment of pride coursed through him. Corin had managed to free himself, had fled, and was on the run.

But there had been blood, lots of blood. He had found several surgical instruments and vials with differently colored liquids, which, coupled with the syringes, told the whole story.

He could almost taste the fury. He wanted to tear into something, hit something…

There was a distressed warble and he caught himself, pushing the emotions away. The Mandalorian still had no idea how much the child could sense through the Force, if it enabled the little one to be empathic. Sometimes the reactions seemed to hint at empathy, sometimes there were was nothing.

Now the child sounded upset and he briefly rubbed a hand over the small body he held cradled in a carrier against his side.

"We will find him," he said in a low voice, barely loud enough for anyone but the child to hear.

And he would kill whoever got in his way.

The child made soft sounds, almost like it was agreeing.

The Mandalorian stalked out of the room, scanning for signs of his missing companion.

Corin had been drugged and tortured. And he had lost blood. The man was a menace! He got himself injured too often, too badly, and just because of the Mandalorian!

The bounty hunter gnashed another curse.

Why? Why was someone who had fought for the Empire, then remained inside a Stormtrooper's armor that painted a huge target on his back because he needed the money, so hell-bent on throwing his life away for a Mandalorian and a child? There had been a few occasions when Corin had been about to sacrifice himself for them, take on more than he could possibly handle. Not to mention endure great discomfort just to… what? What was in it for him? What was his goal?

The Mandalorian had never seen the slightest deception in the man. His way of handling the child, how he played with him, how he held him, sometimes fell asleep with the kid in his arms, was without pretense. He was a man who talked without being asked to, who laughed, who teased, who dared to get closer and closer.

And who so easily threw his life away.

For… him? Why him? He was a bounty hunter. He ran by a code, by honor, but he didn’t make friends. He never looked for friends. He lived by the Way. It was his religion, his purpose.

Until the child and not much later Corin.

Corin, who was a mystery to the Mandalorian.

And he evoked emotions that the Mandalorian hadn't felt like that in a long time.

He followed the trail of blood, anxiousness rising by the minute. The child was growing more agitated, making soft, urging noises, which told the bounty hunter enough.

It was bad.

Going to get worse.

When he finally found the missing man, Corin was close to the exit, kneeling on the ground, breath rasping. His face was badly bruised, he had cuts everywhere, one arm broken, and the shoulder looked dislocated. He was cradling the injured limb, trembling from exhaustion and pain. His clothes were torn and blood-stained. More blood was dripping from his head, the wound still bleeding, the red liquid covering half of his face and matting down the dark hair, caking it completely.

And still he fought when the Mandalorian approached him.

It was a weak blow, more adrenaline-fueled desperation than anything else, but those wide eyes reflected nothing but determination. Their color was distorted, one blood-shot from where he had received a bad blow.

"Corin."

The man tried to move away. The Mandalorian lightly held on to the wrist.

"Corin," he repeated.

There was a soft coo from the child.

The child who had managed to extricate himself from the carrier and had waddled over to Corin's trembling form. The Mandalorian was always surprised how agile the little thing was, how fast, how quietly it could get from one place to the next.

Corin froze, then desperately looked for the source of the sound.

"The kid," he whispered, voice breaking. "Have to… have to…"

Blood dripped from his head, from his lip.

"… protect it…"

Before the Mandalorian could react, the former Stormtrooper threw himself forward, trying to upset his balance. He body-checked him as he scrambled for the kid, who looked at him with huge eyes, then Corin curled himself around the small body like a protective shield.

The child squealed in excitement.

Corin held him close as he shuffled away, only to end up against the other wall.

The Mandalorian watched him, shock coursing through his system, then he unfroze. He walked over to the man and crouched down, again reaching for one arm. An arm that was holding the child in a gentle embrace, very much aware of the fragile being.

"Corin," he said a third time.

All he got in reply was harsh, uneven breathing. And the child's soft mumbles, as if it was trying to reassure Corin that things were okay.

And then the Mandalorian saw the tiny green fingers reach up and touch the blood-smeared, bruised face.

Corin stilled, eyes blown wide, staring at the tiny being.

Another coo.

"Safe," he whispered. "You are safe."

"He is safe," the Mandalorian agreed.

The small hand caressed the sweaty face, the child concentrating only on the shaking man. It cooed again.

Corin's lips twitched faintly. "I didn't fail," he managed, voice fading. "I didn't."

"You didn't fail," the Mandalorian told him firmly. He squeezed the trembling arm.

Those too wide eyes were suddenly on him and they reflected fear and desperation again. "I would never let them find him," he choked out, words slurring. "Never. I wouldn't tell them. I had to keep him safe. I promised."

The Mandalorian was silent, looking into the feverish face, saw eyes with pupils that were blown wide, drowning out the color and turning them black, and he was quite aware of how much the other man had endured and never broken. Even with the drugs. And he had escaped, which was no small feat on its own.

"I know. You did good."

The child had never stopped caressing his guardian's face and now made quizzical noises.

Corin's eyes were sliding shut, but he managed a last smile. "You're safe. I did good. Didn’t fail."

And then he was out like a light.

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a writer you know you're screwed when a planned, supposedly short venture into a new fandom ends up taking over your life, your waking thoughts and your dreams. Yes, I'm screwed. Very much so. This thing has by now taken on a life of its own and is running away with me.  
> Sit down and enjoy my obsession...

He woke to a world of pain, to a pounding headache behind his eyes, to the sensation of torn flesh and abused muscles. Everything that wasn't bruised seemed to be torn, and whatever wasn't torn had been beaten to a bloody pulp.

He touched a trembling hand to his head and encountered a rough bandage and dried blood.

He couldn't remember a time he had ever felt this bad and with every breath he took, with every fiery pulse that ran down his spine, it grew worse.

His muddled brain tried to make sense of where he might be, but it was hard to grasp a coherent thought. His mind was a mess, confused and feverish, holes the size of a Death Star in his memories. The effect of the drug they had given him was not exactly wearing off, but there were moments of clear-headedness.

Closing his eyes against the headache that pounded right behind his eyes, he tried to move.

A new and sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder had him freeze, a wheeze leaving his lips. The pain radiated down his arm and into his hand, right into each fingertip. And his arm was immobilized, which launched a surge of panic at the restrictions.

Corin gritted his teeth against the nausea that accompanied the pain, breathing through it until it ebbed to a bearable level. He finally opened his eyes again and tried to find out where he was.

It was a blurry sight, wavering in and out of focus. Around him was the hum and rumble of space ship engines.

Space ship. He was on a space ship.

He had no idea what to make of that knowledge and it slip-slid away from him the next moment.

He felt like throwing up again and swallowed a few times.

The rumble changed a little, like the ship was descending, and adrenaline shot through him. He felt alarmed for some reason.

And suddenly one thought burned through his mess of a brain once more, drowning out everything rational:

_Protect the child._

The child!

Corin's adrenaline level spiked sharply and he pushed himself up, frantically looking around. His brain seemed to pulse with every heartbeat, trying to squeeze out of his skull, and the world tilted to all sides at once. The pain was secondary, as was any kind of discomfort. There was only terror. There was only this one thought again, this one mission he couldn't fail.

The child! He needed to find the child!

He stumbled, off balance. Closing his eyes, Corin tried to find a point in the vertigo that assaulted him that didn't make him want to empty his stomach, and after some time everything seemed to quiet down. Half blind with a wavering vision that refused to focus, in pain, but single-minded in the way he needed to find the child, Corin started to move again. Stagger. Stumble. Almost crawl along the walls.

He didn't know that his thinking was severely influenced by the mix of drugs he had been given, by the reaction he had had to them. He wasn't aware of anything but the feverish need, the mission, to protect the tiny, innocent being that meant everything.

He heard a gurgling baby noise. Then another noise, heavier, more dangerous.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. No...no, no, no!

His muscles tensed, despite the general weakness, and he was coiled and ready to take on whatever was needed to protect the child.

A hand against his chest stopped him.

His instinctual move was to fight and so he lashed out. The strike was easily blocked, but Corin was a trained soldier, had been taught to power through discomfort, pain and impossible situations.

_Protect the child._

The order was scalding hot, pushing him forward.

He made it three steps before something caught him.

New pain exploded at the edge of his senses. Sharp. Fierce. Angry.

He focused all his strength into one move. He felt terribly weak and was disoriented, but he knew what was at stake.

His hand flew up, catching the opponent once more. The other moved away with an annoyed sounding grunt, but not far enough. He fought the hands, striking out at whatever he could hit.

_Protect the child!_

His wrists were grabbed in a vice-like hold and his knees buckled as pain shot through his abused arm and shoulder. A tiny part of him reminded him that he was truly in bad shape, but the much larger, primal part was screaming to get free. It overpowered any signs of pain and just fought.

_Find the child. Protect the child._

Another voice was talking to him, trying to get him to understand.

He didn’t.

He had to find the child.

Sadly, coordination was non-existent and he barely had a moment to think before he tumbled to the ground, his shoulder jarring so badly he saw white bursts explode behind his eyes. He cried out; a weak, pathetic whimper at best.

Strong, gloved hands suddenly held him, eased him back against the wall, and a sob of desperation escaped his lips.

_Protect the child, you worthless piece of Imperial garbage!_

He was failing.

_Find the child! Do it! It's all you're good for anyway! Your life for his! You are nothing!_

He was useless.

He had lost the kid, he had gotten himself captured, and he had no strength left. He was useless, useless, useless… pathetic. A disgrace.

Leather-covered fingers brushed along his jaw and a thumb briefly caressed one temple.

"You are not useless."

He was. He had lost the child. The Mandalorian would kill him. He was dead. He was a disgrace. He was so useless. Garbage. His life was worthless. He was a burden.

"Your life is not worthless."

He was. If anyone knew he had been a Stormtrooper, that he had fought for the Empire… they would hunt him down like they had so many. He had nearly been killed once, executed, made an example of.

The Mandalorian had saved him. Otherwise his head might now be on display on a stick, his body rotting in an anonymous grave.

He would never be able to redeem himself. Ever. He was beyond redemption, beyond help.

He was evil. Killer. Drone. Worthless!

All he could do was die for a worthy cause. Protect the child.

The child!

"He is safe."

The voice was becoming familiar to him. He trusted it. He knew it.

Safe. The child was safe. Was he? "The child… I need to protect the child…" he whispered doggedly, becoming frantic again.

"And you did. He is safe."

The hand on his face was still gently brushing over his sweaty skin. It calmed him. It relaxed him. The touch gave him hope where he shouldn’t feel any hope at all.

"Safe?"

"Yes."

“Promise?” he whimpered, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

“I promise. By my honor. He is safe.”

The Mandalorian had promised. He could believe him.

"He's safe…" Corin echoed, slumping more. He swallowed hard. "But I failed. Failed. Do I have to leave now?" he asked in a small voice.

Or would he be left to rot? Kill the worthless scum of the galaxy. Rid everyone of just another puppet killing innocents without mercy. Inferior trash that he was. Just… nothing at all.

So worthless.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he struggled feebly.

"I can go," he slurred. "I can leave. I'm not going to bother you again. I'll just pack and leave." His words grew fainter, but he still tried to struggle away from the achingly familiar touch. "You can leave me here. It's my fault. All my fault. Please…"

"No," the Mandalorian said softly, interrupting the frantic words. "You don't have to leave. Ever."

"No?"

"No."

Though his vision was blurry, he caught sight of the small green toddler peeking out from behind the Mandalorian.

Everything inside him unraveled, the relief making him almost sob.

Corin held out a shaking hand and tiny, clawed fingers wrapped around one finger. He smiled, relieved.

Safe. The child was safe.

The world was slowly turning into a black tunnel with a fading light at the end of it. For a moment he battled valiantly to reach the light, but to no avail. He fell further away from it, drifting in blackness.... alone... but not completely.

Corin finally gave up struggling to remain conscious as pain roared through his skull and darkened his vision.

The world lost shape and form, sound became blurry, and nothing really made sense any more. He was aware of strong hands grabbing him by the arms, then even that sensation was gone.

*

The Mandalorian looked at the unconscious man on the cot, took in the multiple injuries, and he carefully checked the immobilized shoulder and arm. He had strapped the broken and dislocated limb to Corin's chest to keep him from making everything even worse. Just the shoulder wouldn’t have been a problem, but the broken bone complicated things. Not to mention the severe headwound that had bled massively, the many, deep bruises, the cuts, the abrasion. And he had been drugged.

He would need a medic.

It was the only reason the Mandalorian had left immediately after getting the ship operational again. And collecting his payment from the cold, dead bodies of his so-called employers. He had done the job.

He knew someone he could trust and that was where they were going.

The drugs were still coursing through Corin's system and he was sliding in and out of consciousness. After the last time he had made it off the bed, the Mandalorian had installed an alert and also left the child with the injured man. The child had been only too happy to curl up with the former Stormtrooper and his presence seemed to have taken the desperate need to run out of the man.

Because the child was safe.

That had been all that had been on Corin's mind, driving him on, past pain and exhaustion, and his agitated words, his frantic need to find the child, had sparked something inside the Mandalorian. It had also opened his eyes to something he had witnessed before.

Corin saw himself as useless, as pathetic, as a disgrace to the Mandalorian. He had been frightened by the very thought that he had to leave.

The drugs.

The drugs messing with his mind, breaking down walls that normally kept them in check, and distorting reality in a way that Corin couldn't make sense of it at all. He had been terrified to leave, but had offered to do the very same anyway. He shielded the child, making himself the target, and he had suffered greatly to protect it.

The Mandalorian couldn't describe the sharp sensation stabbing through him at the words, at the man's conviction that he had messed up enough to be abandoned now. It had been something he had never felt before.

Corin wasn’t just a temporary partner or companion. He was a fixture in their lives now. He belonged. He wouldn’t be left behind.

He landed in a no-name town on a backwater planet a few hours later. The word 'town' might be a bit much for the rag-tag collection of dwellings, but it had a decent landing site not far away and people here never asked questions. Most of the planet was unsettled, with three or four, widely scattered communities and numerous, mostly abandoned, farms. The Empire had never had an interest in this planet, mostly because most of it was rather dangerous to the adventurous souls who ventured into the wilds and there were hardly any interesting resources to plunder.

He found the medic in a run-down building that looked ready to collapse. The man was rough looking, but one of the best field medics the Mandalorian had ever met.

"Fancy seeing you again," the man rumbled. "Took a wrong turn?"

Sharp eyes scanned the armored figure.

"You don't look like you need my expertise."

"Someone else does."

It got him a raised brow. "Well, then lead the way."

"They did a number on him," the medic said after he was done examining Corin, who was still out like a light and barely even twitching. "He's got a mixture of drugs in him. That cocktail could bring a Wookie to his knees. I'm surprised he's still breathing."

The Mandalorian felt himself tense.

"You put the shoulder back?"

He gave a brief nod.

"Good work. The break is clean and should be healing just fine. His head took some beating, but I can close the cuts. Lost quite some blood there. You can't give stronger pain killers until the drugs are out of his system."

Another nod.

The medic did a final check, then straightened. "Hallucinations? Any kind of adverse reactions?"

"No. He tried to get up twice."

"Convinced he had to do something? Moving despite how grave his injuries are, how much in pain he has to be?"

"Yes."

“That's to be expected. That stuff either puts you off your feet for a week or scrambles your brain completely when distressed. Especially when adrenaline is involved." He raised an eyebrow.

The Mandalorian was silently studying the sleeping form. "Yes," he finally said.

There were no further questions and the medic expertly closed the two gashes on Corin's head, then immobilized the broken arm and injured shoulder. Finally he handed the bounty hunter a few supplies.

"Keep him in bed. Let him sleep it off. As little painkillers as possible. It would be best not to give him anything unless it's really necessary. I've got no idea how his system will handle it and he's not under constant medical watch."

"Understood."

The medic ran another test. "He's rather resilient, that one." He briefly skimmed over the scar on Corin's abdomen that attested to another severe wound he had survived. "Like I said, those drugs are heavy hitters. I take it he didn't want to talk to someone who had quite specific questions?"

The Mandalorian was quiet.

"Thought as much. He's strong. Very, very strong. Just one dose is enough to break lesser men. He was probably injected one shot after another. The wounds look like they were added over time."

Fury rose and ebbed away, useless now. The bounty hunter kept himself in check. He was needed in another capacity now.

"You got time to take it easy for a few days? Give him time to heal?"

He tilted his head, considering the offer. "Possibly."

"We got no lodging here."

He knew that. He had been to this planet before.

"But there's an abandoned farm not far from here. It's in good shape. Far enough away from the jungle to be safe. It might help your friend to sleep a real bed, not some cot."

"Thank you."

"Just keep away from the jungle."

He knew to heed the warning.

*

The child was ecstatic to be waddling around in the large farm house. It chased whatever small animal was foolish enough to get near it, but the Mandalorian kept him from eating them. Well, most. One reptile wasn't so lucky.

The child gave him a satisfied look.

The Mandalorian just shook his head with a sigh. Oh well, at least he wasn't hungry any more.

He checked on Corin, who was sleeping. The child toddled after him, making soft noises as it regarded the injured man. Tiny hands reached out and the Mandalorian grabbed the child before he could touch Corin.

"No."

It protested.

"No."

The pout was almost cute. Almost. He stared into those huge eyes and fought back his own reaction to the innocent creature.

"Let him rest."

It warbled, looking at Corin again, trying to reach out.

"He needs sleep."

It cooed.

Another sigh. "Okay. But do not disturb him, understood?" He placed the child back onto the bed. "He needs to heal."

The large ears twitched, then the child sat down next to Corin's good shoulder, looking satisfied but still worried.

The Mandalorian nodded. "Do not wake him. Do not touch him." He pointed a finger at his charge. "Stay."

He got an almost serious gaze in return, then the small green being snuggled up to the former Stormtrooper. A small green hand curled into Corin's shirt. It peeked at him out of the large robes, daring the Mandalorian to scold it.

It elicited another sigh before he left them alone.

He went into the small community only once, using as little money as possible to get them enough supplies and some clothes for Corin, whose outfit had been a complete loss. The medic was there, handing him a package without a comment.

It contained rations and nutrients, as well as some second-hand clothing.

"I can't take this."

"You can and you will. Last time I needed your help you wouldn't let me pay you. Now I have a chance to give back some of it."

"You treated my friend."

The smile showed sharp teeth. "Good to hear you have a friend. Rather new for you, hm? Now go and take care of him."

And that was that.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the smaller update!

Pain. It came through the haze. First in little stings, then in a burning sensation, then in an agonizing flare in his right shoulder.

Pain. A lightning bolt, bringing the world into sudden, bright focus.

Corin groaned and felt tears spring into his eyes.

_Please make it stop!_

He felt a gentle touch, a caress over his face, through his hair, then an equally gentle push to keep him lying flat.

"I can't give you any painkillers."

Sure. Why waste expensive, precious medication on him? He was nothing. He had failed. He knew he had failed. There had been a mission and he had failed.

"No. You did not."

He whimpered softly, trying to curl up, but that resulted in more pain.

"You are worth it."

The words were calm, caring, almost intimate.

He was worth it?

"Yes, you are. Every credit."

The hand on his face was his whole focus, keeping him from sliding away, but even that wasn't enough after some time.

He fell unconscious again.

Outside, the world was obscured by heavy rain that beat against the window panes and sluiced off the roof in a whooshing sound.

The Mandalorian watched the injured man; silent, contemplative.

Ensconced in a nest of blankets, the child mewled softly. The dark eyes never left Corin's once again still form.

The Mandalorian smiled behind his mask.

"Watch him," he told the little green being as he left the room.

It cooed in agreement.

*

Corin slept for the next day, only waking when the Mandalorian gently prodded him to feed him liquids with the nutrients supplied by the medic. He adhered to the advice not to add any painkillers unless absolutely necessary. It pained him in turn, but the danger of what the chemicals might do was too great.

Corin looked exhausted from the pain. He barely managed to string two sentences together and fell asleep right after eating the little he could. It wasn't much. The Mandalorian wasn’t even sure he would remember being awake.

The Mandalorian sometimes sat with the injured man, studying the too pale, still very much bruised face. The healing cuts were in stark contrast to the lighter skin, red and covered by an antibacterial herb the medic had told him to apply every day.

Sometimes he ran a caress over the warm skin, drawing a sigh from the man or a mumble. He would brush back the dark bangs or carefully check the broken arm and sore shoulder. Corin was healing nicely, but the main problem wasn't the physical injury. It was whatever they had shot into him. It was a messy concoction, as the medic had confirmed, and even in trace amounts it could still influence a person.

Corin's insistence that he was not worth the attention stabbed into the Mandalorian's very soul, evoking a protective instinct he had last felt with the child. Just on a different level. The former Stormtrooper was ready to die for the child, for him, refusing to see his own life as worthy.

The drugs brought out the turmoil, gave the Mandalorian a pretty good idea what was and had been going through the other man's mind. Corin's walls had come crumbling down and he was a true mess.

"You are worth it," he repeated every time he had to calm the agitated man. “To me.”

Those wide eyes, filled with terror and need, would sightlessly fix on him. "I am?"

Faint. Breathy. Barely there.

"You are. You are worth it, Corin. Always."

It got him a whispered 'thank you' that gave birth to a warmth the Mandalorian had only ever felt around this man.

If his touch lingered longer than necessary as he treated the injured skin, no one would ever see it.

If he sat in the dark room at night, vigilant, the helmet next to him on the table, no one would ever see that either.

Something called out to him.

Something strong.

He was no longer alone. He had… a family. Self-imposed isolation and a solitary existence had made way to warmth and longing. He rarely talked more than necessary, but he listened to Corin. He cared for Corin. He wanted…

A myriad of emotions crashed down on him and he fought through the wave, never showing a single twitch.

This man… he was special.

*

The child had decided to sleep in the bed where Corin was. It was quite insistent, going as far as climbing out of its make-shift crib under its own power and toddling over to the bedroom the moment the Mandalorian turned his back on him.

"What are you doing?" he growled as he stalked after him, but it held no anger or heat.

It stared at him, ears moving up and down a fraction.

"You have a bed."

The child looked at the bed, then whined a little.

"It is Corin's bed."

A warble.

"He needs his rest."

And with that he picked it up again, returning the child to the crib.

The Mandalorian admitted defeat after returning the child to the crib after it had made a break and run for the third time. The little guy was an escape artist and he was fast on his feet!

"You are a menace."

It cooed, looking immensely pleased.

But he gave in.

The child never disturbed Corin, simply fell asleep with a pleased expression.

The little nuisance also insisted to sit with Corin when he was awake. It had gone as far as offering his own food to the man. The soft smile on Corin's lips as he politely turned down the offer had twisted something deep inside the Mandalorian.

He had never been more glad for wearing the helmet than those gentle moment.

Forcefully pushing the emotions aside, the bounty hunter decided to check the house again, a routine he had started and that kept him from going stir-crazy. He had fixed a few things around the old farm. He had also overhauled the security system the prior owners had installed to keep out unwanted fauna and flora of a larger and more aggressive kind.

When he turned away from his latest check, he found the kid standing in the room, watching him with quizzical eyes. It cooed.

With a gentle grip he picked it up and placed him on a chair. He had boosted the seat just for the child, enabling it to peer over the top of the table.

It curiously looked around, then deftly climbed onto the table, heading for a bowl of spare parts. The Mandalorian quickly stopped him from grabbing something not suited for baby hands.

"No."

It huffed, eyeing the bowl. Again.

He held out a piece of dried fruit to him as a distraction and the child took it, chewing. It mumbled something.

"Don't speak with your mouth full."

It looked up at him, humming, then those large eyes turned to the bedroom.

The Mandalorian followed the gaze. The door was open, the bed in his line of sight. Corin was sleeping. Safe.

The child whined a little.

"He'll be fine," he murmured, not for the first time; also not just for the sake of the child.

His words drew a bright-eyed, hopeful look. The large ears rose. The child chirped.

"He'll be fine," he repeated, low and almost like a prayer.

For the first time in his life, the Mandalorian was afraid of someone; for someone. He was afraid of this unassuming ex-Trooper, a foot soldier of a failed Empire, a man who was nothing special, had never been special, but who was now very special to him.

And to the child.

The child was attached to this man in the same way it was attached the Mandalorian, and wasn't that tell-tale enough? At its so very young age – for the species it belonged to anyway – it had exerted itself to keep them alive, to heal, to help.

He looked at the man again, studying the sleep-lax features from afar.

He looked…

Young. Vulnerable. Perfect.

The Mandalorian fought down the need that rose inside him. His fingers absent-mindedly rubbed over his wrist, catching on the sleeve.

The child made soft noises that sounded almost like an approving purr, looking absolutely pleased.

He gritted his teeth.

He was screwed.

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had the worst scare today: I had lost part of this chapter after accidentally overwriting the new with the old version. Gah!!!  
> Well, here it is, restored! Enjoy!  
> And I promise, Corin will get better, but right now he's still a mess from the drugs he was given. Poor thing. 
> 
> I love you all for your feedback and your encouragement! I'm so much into this AU, I don't even want to watch the lastest episode...

The first time Corin was truly lucid, awake longer than five minutes, and sitting up was three days after they had moved into the abandoned farm. He looked unshaven, scruffy, thinner than before, but there was more life in his eyes than before, and he smiled happily when the child climbed up into his bed.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered and helped him onto the mattress, holding the small hands with his good one to give the child some balance.

It got him an excited coo. Corin's smile grew and he let the kid grip his fingers to stay upright. It warbled, ears perked, eyes bright. The way he was studied, Corin wondered just how much the child could see. He had no clue about force-sensitive people, had only ever heard rumors and wildly exaggerated tales. Knowing the kid had brought him back from the brink of death, he wondered if some of those wild stories held a kernel of truth.

So, yeah, maybe the child could see there was a ton of things wrong with him, right down to his Stormtrooper past. He didn't have the best of resumes in that regard.

"I'm good."

"You are not."

Corin startled. He hadn't heard anyone enter. The Mandalorian moved as quietly as an assassin when he wanted to and right now Corin was at a huge disadvantage, worse than ever before. Since the child hadn't even reacted to his guardian's presence, there had been no warning.

The Mandalorian held out a cup to him and Corin took it, evading his gaze. The child tried to reach the cup and he held it higher. It protested.

The Mandalorian picked him up, much to the child's delight, keeping him firmly under one arm. The child burbled cheerfully as it hung over the arm, the higher vantage point probably what it had wanted.

"You are alive," the Mandalorian stated emotionlessly. "Not 'good'. You were drugged and tortured."

Corin winced. The bounty hunter handed him a plate of food, which he ate. He didn't ask what it was, simply finished as much as he could stomach.

He had been caught. He had let himself be caught! Idiot that he was. So much for army training. He was absolutely incompetent! Then they had tried to beat the child's location out of him, finally turning to drugs.

How much had he spilled?

How much did they know now?

He felt chilly, stomach clenching, and he pushed the plate away.

"Where are we?" he asked as he leaned back with a tired sigh. He was trembling again.

"Sonsos."

"Never heard of it."

The Mandalorian switched the child to the crook of his other arm. "Barely anyone has."

"So backwater backwater, hm? And this place?"

"An abandoned farm. I know someone here."

Corin nodded, not questioning the statement. His eyes were sliding shut and the Mandalorian set the squirming child back onto the bed. It cooed and Corin smiled as it snuggled into his good side.

He didn't fight as his body demanded rest and he fell asleep again.

The Mandalorian watched them, watched the former Trooper, listening to his breathing even out as he fell asleep again.

He remained there for a long time.

Just watching.

Guarding.

*

It took Corin two days to be more awake than asleep and his head had mostly cleared by then. He was able to string two sentences together without yawning or losing his train of thought. He was still tired and easily exhausted after just a few steps outside, though. The events leading to his injury were mostly a blur. He could barely make sense of the little he remembered.

Sitting outside, on an old but rustic bench, he tried to recall at least the important tidbits. Overhead, thunder rumbled and rain came down, sluicing off the roof that covered the small porch. Everything was muddy and wet, but not too cold.

Corin had made it here under his own steam, though the trip had agitated his bruises and the broken bones. The child was outside with him, large eyes on the weather, clearly fascinated by the torrential rain. It had simple trundled after him, determined not to leave his guardian out of his sight.

The next clap of thunder had the ears drop, then rise slowly. The little guy didn't look afraid, just fascinated, standing next to where Corin was sitting.

"Too many deserts, hm?" Corin asked softly.

It cooed and waddled over to him. Corin lifted it to the bench with a small grunt of discomfort and it sat down right next to the injured man. One small hand curled into his loose clothing.

Clothing that wasn't his own. Clothing the Mandalorian had gotten him, spending his own money on Corin. Again.

The thoughts invaded his struggling mind, pushing at emotions that he didn't want to ponder too closely and didn't really understand. It was a hard knot of nameless fear mixed with warmth and weird little tremors of... happiness? The happiness never lasted long as Corin's mind turned over all the possibilities, added up what the Mandalorian was doing and had done for him already, and how little Corin himself had been unable to repay.

He was deep, deep in debt. It was scarily a lot and he had no idea how he could ever return everything the man had done for him.

"I'm okay, kiddo," he said.

The child looked doubtful. It gurgled a little.

He smiled and tugged playfully at one ear, drawing a giggle.

"You are not."

Corin looked up and grimaced. The Mandalorian, arms resting loosely on the belt, was leaning against the door frame. The man could move as quietly as a shadow even in fully armor! How long had been there? How long had Corin been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't heard anyone approach, even if the rain was drowning out a lot of noise.

He was a trained soldier, damnit! This could cost him life! It would have cost him his life! Stupid!

_Worthless idiot_ , the dark voice hissed. _Bottom-rung scum! No wonder he has to do everything! You wouldn't survive on your own!_

The pain was almost physical, constricted his lungs, and he fought back against the darkness it brought.

"I'm going to get us supplies. We'll be here a while longer," the bounty hunter told him, snapping Corin out of his thoughts. He pointed a finger at him. "You stay. Both of you. Don't get into trouble."

Corin wanted to protest, wanted to say he was very capable of going into town with the Mandalorian, but he didn't. One look into the visored face had him swallow his words.

Because he was weak. Because he was a burden. Useless. He was the idiot who always got into trouble and whom the Mandalorian had to save, expending valuable resources that needed to be replaced.

He felt that tremor deep within his very soul, his stomach clenching at the thought.

Corin looked away, but felt the tiny claws through the thin layer of clothes as the child warbled at him. The large eyes held an innocent question and he tried to give it a reassuring smile. The child didn't look like it believed him for a second.

The Mandalorian's heavy gaze seemed to cut right through him, Corin feeling awkward, superfluous, a waste of space. Then the Mandalorian walked out into the rain and disappeared.

"He's right. I'm not okay," he whispered, running a gentle caress over the soft hairs on the small green head. "Not at all."

*

With so much time on his hands because he had nothing else to do, Corin had taken to exploring as much as his still weak body let him.

Their current place of living, or hiding, whatever way you looked at it, wasn’t as dilapidated as Corin had first thought. The farm had been abandoned for a while, but the main house didn’t appear to crumble in on itself any time soon.

It had been made of stone, with a slightly inclined roof with a water collection tank that siphoned off into an even larger underground storage area, and a shed that had once probably been used as storage, not for animals.

There was only one bedroom, one sanitary area, a huge kitchen that doubled as an eating area, and more storage space.

He had been the only one using the bedroom, aside from the child. Nothing new there, he mused. He had no idea where the Mandalorian had slept, but he supposed it was either outside or rarely.

The area outside wasn’t a desert, which was a nice change from the usual planets. He hadn’t ventured far, only to explore the vicinity, and he had found more vegetation than on all the other planets they had been together.

He hadn’t seen another soul at all, not even in the distance, and animal life was mostly rodents and the occasional lizard, which was a delight for the child to play with. And eat.

Corin grinned. Their little charge was turning into a good hunter. He felt strangely proud of that. Just as proud as the child when it had captured another snack.

Sometimes he wished he knew more about the species the child came from. Sometimes he wondered if the little guy still had parents looking for him. Had he been kidnapped? Had his parents been killed? Had he ever known his parents? And who wanted him so badly that such a huge bounty had been placed on such an innocent little head? And why?

Sure, he was force-sensitive and he had pulled some pretty amazing stunts, like saving Corin from falling into a crevice; and later from bleeding out after getting shot in the gut. Yeah, the kid was powerful, but why would they want him dead and not alive? Wouldn't he be worth more alive than dead? They could still use his abilities, shape him to work for whoever this Client was…

Corin shuddered.

No! No way would he let anyone take this child and turn him over to some lunatic who still thought the Empire could rise again! He was still learning, exploring the world, and he would be easily influenced to do bad things with such amazing abilities. He could kill just like he could save a life.

_They want him dead_ , a vicious voice whispered. _And you were one of them!_

He growled, fighting the anger and despair at the thought. He knew he had been close to taking a life, maybe two, but never in cold blood! Never!

_Wouldn't you have? You follow orders so prettily_ , the nasty voice taunted. _Good little soldier that you are!_

He pushed it away. He wouldn't have killed a helpless child! Yes, he had sat in the ice cave watching the Mandalorian struggle with his injury and the freezing child, but he had broken down and done the humane thing: he had given them his heat blanket. Corin couldn't fathom watching either of them freeze to death.

The child cooed and looked at him, ears twitching. It appeared troubled.

Corin pasted a smile on his lips. "Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch, kiddo. Nothing. And your dad is a big bad-ass bounty hunter. He won't let them hurt you either."

Or worse.

The ears twitched, then rose a little. It warbled.

Corin gently picked him up with his good hand. He wasn't that heavy and easily balanced. Small hands curled into his shirt, the little green face smooshing against his chest with a warm sigh. The child muttered something and there was a brief warmth all over, like a hug, and he curled his good arm around the child.

Maybe he should be freaked out by this display of power, but he wasn't.

"I love you, too, kiddo," he whispered shakily. "So very much."

tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *glares at the one remaining braincell* I had a life before you decided to grab onto this AU and run away with it!
> 
> To everyone reading and wondering: it will get a lot better after this. Corin's not going to stay a puddle of self-doubt :) It's all the drug mix he was given.
> 
> I'm happy everyone is still reading. This thing is growing fast and there will be more relationshippy stuff later. It's a glacially slow burn, but it's heading somewhere... Epiphanies on the horizon and all...

He used the water from the collection tank to shower and shave, and to haphazardly wash his clothes. He had only one functioning arm and the bruises and the occasional dizziness restricted his motion. His body reminded him he was really not okay, not matter what he told himself. His shoulder flared with the slightest wrong move and his broken-but-healing arm was close to useless. He felt ready to keel over and sleep for a week after just a simple shower.

 _You are weak!_ the old, snide whisper came again.

They were stuck here because of him. Sitting ducks. They should be moving, he should suck it up and be on the ship, pain, discomfort and all. Just looking at the medical supplies he knew they had been expensive.

Money spent more wisely on ship maintenance, fuel and food.

Not on his sorry ass. The ass who needed more medical help than he could ever earn credits to pay for.

The Mandalorian had to spend his own supplies on him.

_Good-for-nothing, inferior trash! You're lucky he didn't put you out of your misery already!_

He fought it. He couldn't be a complete waste of resources, even with the bad luck he had had lately. Otherwise the Mandalorian would have dumped him somewhere already and left.

Right?

He wasn't really sure.

The child followed him everywhere, looking too earnest, too aware of what was going on, but it happily let himself be distracted by games and the occasional sighting of wildlife.

"At least I'm not a completely incompetent when it comes to you," he muttered.

It got him a happy gurgle.

"I'm all but useless to him, hm? This is the third time he had to save me."

The large eyes were now fully on him.

Corin ran a caressing finger along the tiny cheek, then he brushed the fluffy down on the green head.

The thing about his memories was that while they were a bit scrambled and occasionally vague, they did contain the gist of things.

He had screwed up.

"He let me stay. I might not be so lucky the next time. I cost him money and fuel. He takes on dangerous jobs to feed another mouth. As much as I like you, and him, I don't think he'll let me hang around you guys for much longer. I'm not pulling my weight."

The kid seemed to huff, not sharing his opinion. The thought of leaving was painful; the thought not to be around the other man was tearing him apart.

Corin smiled dimly. He knew the Mandalorian would never abandon the child, but he might just grow tired of Corin, who cost him more and more money. Corin, who didn't pull his weight, who didn't work lucrative jobs, who couldn't even do simple tasks.

A wave of despair washed over the former Stormtrooper. The ache shooting through him was part physical and part emotional. He hated to be so emotional, so at the mercy of those damned drugs.

The child babbled softly. Its small hands grabbed the loose garb the other man wore gazing intently at him.

"I'm still good for distracting the enemy or being the decoy bait. That's something, right?"

Okay, now he was getting morose, too.

The child frowned a little, ears drooping.

Corin scrubbed his good hand over the bruised face and winced. Yeah, he was still rather out of commission and it irked him.

Even preparing a meal was too hard with only one functional arm, limited mobility and the way his body decided that it had enough after a while. The dizziness had him internally curse up a storm as he struggled to get a basic dish done from their supplies.

The Mandalorian never commented on the way the meals looked; or tasted. The child ate with gusto and delight. Corin knew he might be able to do better, but somehow he messed it up anyway. Basic things. Simple things. Preparing a meal with one hand should be so easy.

What good was he if he couldn’t even handle their food? He really had no other function than to be a glorified stand-in babysitter, he realized darkly.

He found a data pad in the bags stored in the house and busied himself with finding out more about the planet he had never ever heard about. Okay, so that was nothing new. He really had slept through classes in that regard. He wasn’t a pilot. He went where they sent him, shot at what they wanted him to… had tried not to question orders… to develop a conscience.

And failed.

Failure. Always a failure.

Corin pushed the dark shadows aside. "Idiot," he whispered.

He concentrated on what the data pad revealed about Sonsos.

There wasn't really a lot in the known databases, but the warnings he found were clear enough. Whatever page he opened, it got him alerts not to set foot here.

Lethal fauna and flora.

Huh.

His eyes strayed to the sleeping child. The kid had eaten that fauna…

Unease curled in his stomach and he chased it away. The little guy was alive. He was absolutely fine. The Mandalorian wouldn't have brought them here, knowing the kid stuffed live food into his mouth, if the small reptiles were poisonous.

Sonsos was mostly unsettled, had only a few tiny communities, and they were as far away from the jungle that covered the rest of the rather small planet like a thick blanket as possible. Nothing was known about what lived inside the thick foliage. Explorers had ventured out on expeditions and no one had ever returned. No remains had been found. Droids had come back in scraps. Drones sent out to scan had been taken down by…

"Vines?" Corin read out loud. "What the hell?"

Yes, vines. Apparently the plant life was… attack happy.

He shivered. Okay. The jungle was completely off limits and he would do his damnest to keep the child from somehow ending up there. Not that it was close enough for him to accidentally enter, but who knew? The kid was sometimes in places no one would expect.

The Empire had never deemed Sonsos a valuable resource or outpost. There was nothing in the ground or the air, let alone that weird jungle, that was worth the losses they had had already. The planet was so far removed from trade routes no one came here just for fun, and it wasn't a viable outpost for either side. The people who lived here had chosen this life.

It was actually a good place to lay low, Corin mused.

Perfect.

If not for the threat of death from the jungle, which he didn’t plan to enter anyway. They were about a day’s walk away from it, so there was no danger of that happening.

The child reached for the pad and the small fingers tapped on the screen. The image changed, showed photos taken from an overhead flight of the jungle from decades ago. It looked impenetrable, formidable, and not like somewhere Corin would want to go.

“We’re staying here,” he told his charge. “Which means you especially are staying here. It's no place for a child.”

Or an unlucky ex-Trooper. Knowing his track record, he would be dead after no more than three steps into the wilderness. Yeah, that sounded like him.

The child warbled, ears perking.

He smiled, tugging playfully at one ear. It got him a giggle and the child curled closer to him, still studying the images with innocent curiosity.

So he let them run on an automatic slide show, displaying more plant life than he had ever seen in his life before. Some of those plants looked vicious, almost animalistic, and there were thick vines that seemed to grow out of and around everything. Someone had added more severe warnings still, mentioning intelligent plant life that chased prey.

Fun. Not.

He had specialized in snow and he liked snow. He knew all there was about snow, glaciers, the cold. It was his specialty.

Snow and ice had brought him luck. He had met the Mandalorian and the child. They had been his first step on a road to redemption.

“Lucky me,” he murmured.

The child agreed and he laughed.

*

They got into several verbal fights; well, verbal on Corin’s part and mostly silently staring and intimidating on the Mandalorian’s.

Corin insisted to be useful, to not just sit around all day and do nothing at all while the Mandalorian was taking on whatever jobs he was taking on, doing whatever he was doing. They needed money, but one of them was just…

A burden.

Corin had no funds of his own, not a single piece that held any monetary value to use as payment. All he had was his body, which he could put to work.

“I can work!” he repeated determinedly for what felt the umpteenth time.

“No.”

“I might not be able to lift some stuff, but I’m sure someone in that small town has a job for me!”

“No.”

Corin’s desperation rose. He needed to prove that he was worth keeping around. He needed to show the Mandalorian he wasn’t just another mouth to feed with no return value.

“Then let me do some ship maintenance! I know enough to clean up and sort through things.”

“No. You are injured.”

“I’m not a useless invalid! I’ve worked under worse conditions! On an ice planet! Eight to ten hour shifts in full gear!” he yelled angrily.

The hand pushing him against the wall was firm but gentle. The shove barely jarred his shoulder. The helmeted face was no more than an inch from his own.

"You are not a burden. You are injured. You need to heal. Stand down."

Corin swallowed. "I'm not pulling my weight around here," he argued weakly. "That's the definition of burden. We’re stuck in this place because of me!"

"You have protected the child. With your life. You saved him; and me."

"And I get shot up in the process," he snapped, feeling a spike of anger. "I was drugged up to my eyebrows and I'm all but a dead weight around you! You pay for the supplies needed and you even had to pay a medic!"

The Mandalorian briefly tightened his grip, only easing up when Corin winced.

"You are not a burden,” he repeated with such infinite patience, Corin felt something inside of him resonate to the tone of voice. “You are… valued. If you leave, I will drag you back." And with that he pushed away, stalking outside where the child was playing.

Corin sagged a little, heart racing at the evenly delivered words. Never before in his life had reacted like that to anyone.

And never before had someone told him he was valued. That he was wanted.

The tightness in his chest, one he hadn’t really been aware of until now, suddenly eased. There was still the vicious little beast that fed on his negative emotions that refused to leave, but it was no longer biting at his heals. A solid presence seemed to settle next to him, behind him, around him. It soothed the agitation, warmed him, relaxed him, and he closed his eyes, exhaling softly.

Hope. He felt hope. Coupled with the flicker of happiness that was always there when the Mandalorian was around. There was this weird pull, to be close to him, to prove himself. To finally be worthy.

He swallowed.

He closed his eyes against the tears forming there. Stupid! He was insanely stupid! And emotional! Damn those drugs! They still messed with everything, with his thinking, his reactions, tearing down walls he didn't want to have down; ever.

He was a trained soldier! He didn’t break down! He didn’t let words touch him! He had been called worse by even his own superiors and he had always swallowed it, soldiered on, so to speak. He had been CT-113 and he had been a number, a cog in the wheel; unimportant. No one would have missed his sorry hide had he been killed or gone missing.

Until his accidental meeting with the Mandalorian he had never cared about his fate. Now he did; and he cared very much about the two beings he travelled with.

The words had given him this hope and he clung to it. Maybe the remaining traces of the drugs he had been shot up with were screwing with his emotional balance, too.

Damnit!

He finally went outside, too. The Mandalorian was watching the landscape and the child, which was covered in mud from its adorable ears to its tiny toes.

Corin groaned silently, but he didn't stop the tiny creature from getting even muddier. The child was clearly having fun, splashing around, creating mud balls and giggling at the way it could make small mud fountains as it hopped into the puddles.

Yep, it was a mess. An utter, yet incredibly adorable mess. It was being a child; happy.

Corin had to laugh softly, all the turmoil of before chased away by the innocent sight before him.

The child looked at him, eyes wide, full of life and love, and it warbled excitedly.

“I’m not getting in there with you,” he teased.

It squeed.

“Nope. And it's your turn cleaning him up," he commented after a while, eyes briefly slanting to the Mandalorian.

While he couldn't see the expression, he knew just what it looked like. And he gave the other man a tiny smirk.

The Mandalorian gave a heartfelt sigh.

Something inside Corin eased at the sound, smoothing into the warmth he was used to experiencing around the bounty hunter. So normal. He cherished the feeling, held it close.

There was an excited cry from their little charge and he laughed as it scrabbled with a muddy lizard it had caught.

The Mandalorian groaned, resignation clear in the tone of voice, and tried to grab the reptile before it could become baby food.

He was too late.

And the kid looked way too happy and smug.

Corin continued to grin like a maniac, his injured arm held close to his body, chuckling.

The warmth inside him grew more and more as the Mandalorian picked up the child and carried him inside to rinse off the thick layer of mud.

*

They started to develop a routine. Corin tried himself at preparing meals that didn’t look like a congealed, inedible mess. The Mandalorian tinkered with the ship, repaired or maintained what needed to be done. And the third member of their little family was busy exploring everything in the vicinity, right down to crawling around the basement, the attic or chasing wildlife that was adventurous enough to come closer to him.

Corin was always chasing after him, growing gray hair as he found him stuffing things into his mouth he didn’t want to contemplate. Children explored the world with their mouths, sure, but why were they so lightning-fast, too?

So far there had been no adverse reactions, but it was nerve-wracking. The moment he was out of sight, Corin was breaking into a sweat.

“You need a leash,” he muttered as he brushed dust off the green head.

The child cooed happily.

“Uh-huh. How about you stay in my line of sight?”

It got him a warble of delight.

When he caught the kid exploring some leafy bush growing at the far corner of the house, Corin just groaned and resigned himself to toddler-chasing for the foreseeable future.

At least he wasn’t stuffing greens into his mouth. Yet.

The bug that ended up as a snack didn’t count, right?

tbc...


	7. Chapter 7

Some of the non-stop tension had drained from the Mandalorian's frame. Corin could see it in the lines of his body, in the way that he moved, heard it in the tone of his voice. He never was without the armor, but that was just the Way. Everything else was… just a little bit softer. A tiny bit. Barely there, but Corin saw it.

The medic came out for a final check-up and declared that the mixture of drugs was now out of Corin's system.

It was a relief.

Even if the presence of the large, rough looking guy Corin knew next to nothing about had him tense and apprehensive.

Did he know who Corin really was? If so, did he care? Had the Mandalorian paid him enough to ensure his silence? Did they have to run again?

He liked it here. It was a safe haven, a tiny place in a vast universe, and it seemed completely off anyone’s radar. He hadn't seen a single ship come in in all the time they had been here.

The medic’s sharp eyes met Corin’s gaze and he pulled his lips into the semblance of a smile.

“You’re good for him,” he murmured, voice so low it was barely audible. "Your past doesn't matter here."

Corin froze. He stared at the large man as he packed his bag and just walked off.

What? What the… what?!

"He's happy here."

The Mandalorian glanced at the medic as the man hefted his bag onto his back. It had been the last, planned visit, accompanied by more supplies the Mandalorian had never paid for. He had given up arguing with the burly man and simply gratefully accepted it all.

"He's a child," he said neutrally.

"Looks like a grown man to me." The smirk was clear to see, as was the gleam in the too sharp eyes.

The Mandalorian was silent.

"This place is dangerous," he finally replied as the medic made no attempts to leave.

It got him a huff. "Sure. Everyone knows that. It's a death trap. Nothing’s changed since the dawn of time. Only the crazy and the really desperate settle here. You'd fit right in."

Another glance. Another refusal to budge, only the razor-sharp grin.

"It's been quiet. You can tell by the quiet that it's safe," the medic told him, teasing humor gone. "We get the occasional daredevil, but they never last long. This place chooses who belongs."

"I don't belong."

Another snort. “If you were unwelcome or barely tolerated you’d know. This place is the closest settlement to the jungle and believe me, that stuff can grow fast enough you wouldn’t know what hit you. You’re good to stay as long as you want. This place actually likes your shiny hide.” He chuckled. "No idea why."

The Mandalorian grunted, eyes tracking Corin and the child's movements. There had been a time he had felt like he was in over his head, that he couldn't do this, wouldn't be able to keep the child and himself alive. With Corin, something had changed. They were sharing guardianship; and responsibility. Corin was good with the kid. Really good.

"You plan to dump them here and go off hunting whoever you are hunting?" the medic challenged, following his gaze. “Probably whoever is hunting the kid?”

He pondered the words, eyes straying to the lush jungle so far away. It might be his imagination, but he thought it had grown slightly closer, but not in a dangerous proximity just yet. The Mandalorian knew what he needed to know about this place. He knew it was safe if you were accepted, if you abided the unwritten rules. The planet retaliated if not. Had they been classified as intruders they wouldn't have lasted a day out here. Even that far away from the sentient fauna that watched them with a million eyes.

He had seen what could happen the first time he had been here. He knew the warnings were real, should be heeded.

"That guy?" The medic half-nodded at Corin. "He's special and you know it. Leaving won't change a thing. He might be safe here, like the kid, but don't doubt the crazy and the insane when it's a large bounty. They see you without your crew, they know to sniff out the last traces of where you went and they'd come hunting."

The Mandalorian tensed. Yes, he was quite aware of it. The planet was a safe haven, but not indefinitely. With or without him here. He would have to take care of the bounty, the Imperial client, one way or the other.

"You could try your luck deeper in the unsettled land, but that would be another kind of stupid."

He knew that, too.

"Think about it." The medic gave him a final nod, then walked over to his ride. "You got something good going here. With him. With your child. That boy went through hell and didn’t break. He won’t betray you. He’s loyal.”

“I know,” he muttered.

“Then what are you waiting for? Life is one of the shortest." He closed his jacket with a snap of clasps. "That was the last free advice. Call should he suddenly get worse."

The Mandalorian gave him a neutral look that relayed just how much of the freely given advice he had actually wanted.

"Oh, he's really good on the eyes. So don't wait too long. Someone else might want him."

The growl was low, dangerous, and completely involuntary. It was an expression of tension, of nerves, of hitting something very sensitive dead center.

The medic chuckled. "Yeah, thought as much." And with that he was off.

The Mandalorian watched the dust cloud dissipate, emotions churning, then his gaze strayed back to the jungle in the distance. The last words had really hit a nerve. A painfully bare nerve that throbbed and clamored loudly. The possessive feeling inside him rose to an unbearable level and he fought it back.

He released a pent-up breath, the rest of the conversation running through his mind.

Stay here…

His life was no life for a child, he knew. But without him, the child would die. It was hunted; it had the highest possible bounty on its innocent little head. He was its guardian, its protector.

Corin was a soldier. He was used to this. He could handle it, but the Mandalorian didn’t want to force him into this life either.

Then why had he stayed? Just for protection? Because he might end up dead without the Mandalorian’s protection. Part of him agreed, another part doubted it. Corin wasn’t weak, he wasn’t without resources. He knew how to fight. He was strong and resilient, almost dogged sometimes, and if not for his penchant to throw himself in front of anything threatening the Mandalorian and/or the child, he might even survive the next years in his life.

The Mandalorian felt something constrict inside him at the thought of not having Corin, not having the child. They both meant something to him, on a different level but emotionally still so close to the same.

He couldn’t leave either behind.

He never would.

The lure of peace, of living a normal life for a while, was tempting. This place was tempting. It would have to stay a temporary haven, though. A retreat they could come back to, one they couldn’t endanger by staying forever.

For now they would.

*

"This planet… Sonsos…" Corin looked up from the data pad, meeting the patient gaze of the other man.

The Mandalorian was checking his weapons, a pile of them on the table and out of reach for questing, curious baby fingers. The child had watched him for a while, then decided that playing with the pad as Corin read over the information on this planet again was much more interesting. He was learning, remembered that weapons were off limits for him. Currently it loved looking at the multitude of images from the jungle and the few, scarce sightings of larger animal life.

"It's sentient?" Corin asked.

"In a way, yes, but not the planet itself."

"Huh."

He almost absent-mindedly plugged something metallic out of the small green fist before it ended up in the baby mouth.

The child protested and tried to get his toy back. Corin studied it and found it was an old shell from one of the Mandalorian's weapons. It wasn't dangerous and it most definitely hadn't been on the table.

He put it into his pocket.

"Not a toy," he told the toddler softly.

It cooed, looking briefly dejected, then was distracted by the pictures again.

"Is it a life form?" Corin asked, changing back to the topic at hand. "One life form?"

That would be a really gigantic living creature, covering this little non-descript clump of rock in an unspectacular system in a bare corner of the universe.

"No one really knows. There are only speculations."

Corin looked at the images and words on the pad without really reading them. "The medic made some cryptic remarks when he checked me through. That we are welcome here. I didn't hear it as a welcome from the town of any other settlement. There isn't so much as a ruling leader anyway."

"There's not," the Mandalorian agreed. "These are loosely bound communities, almost towns, with no clear structure, but they run by a code. There is no lawlessness."

"Because you get eaten by plants?"

The head-tilt was an expression of a smirk coupled with a pointed look. Yes, Corin was getting good at reading those cues.

"You've been here before," he stated.

"Yes."

"A bounty?"

"A reprieve."

"Oh. Like now."

Another almost-smile. "Not even close. There were four of us coming in, one leaving."

Corin blinked. "You… you went into the jungle?"

"Three did. A client had asked to retrieve one of the native creatures. No one returned."

And he called that a reprieve? Well, compared to hunting bounties… maybe.

"You… didn't go?"

"No."

"Why?"

The Mandalorian seemed to ponder that for a moment. "I'm not sure. It was… a feeling."

Corin briefly drummed his fingers against the pad, then caught himself. "Instinct."

"Maybe. Looking back, I now know it wasn't so much luck than whatever lives within this planet decided to spare me."

"So you think it's just one life form?"

"I don't know."

Corin's gaze was drawn to the jungle in the distance, visible through the window. He was curious and scared in one.

"Don't go there," the Mandalorian said, voice sharper now; commanding.

He stiffened, an automatic reaction to the tone. "Wasn't planning to." He chewed his lower lip, again skimming over the data pad as the child tried to slide the next picture. He helped and it cooed. "Has anyone ever tried to… communicate with this… life form? I mean, it makes decisions, it's clearly more than a dumb animal, and if it really is one organism, it's amazing."

"They disappeared."

"Oh. Huh. Wow. So, it's not into company," he tried a quip.

It was met by an unamused stare.

Corin studied the image of what might be a single plant. It was a thick stem, almost muscular in appearance, ending in a vicious jaw-like growth that might just be able to snap a bantha in half in one bite and not much effort. The image was kind of blurry, quickly taken by an overhead flight, and there were more of those weird things that looked like they could give chase should you make a run.

He shivered.

The Mandalorian snapped his vambrace shut and secured it. "We are safe here," he stated.

"As long as we stay on the planet's good side?"

"Probably."

The child tapped on the pictures, excited to make them move, and Corin smiled at the innocent enthusiasm. He didn't plan to get on anyone's bad side, especially a whole planet's, if it was really true that this place was sentient. As long as the Mandalorian deemed it safe, they would stay.

*

His shoulder was improving, the break was healing, and he no longer felt exhausted from just circling the building two times. The medic had told him that the drugs had also messed up his healing, which was just another piece of bad luck to add to all the bad luck he had started to accumulate.

Being here, on Sonsos, away from every last scrap of civilization, was rather nice.

It was… like living a normal life. Like a family.

Corin almost choked on that thought. Ever since joining the Imperial forces to earn his living he hadn't felt like that. He had lost his last family five years ago and he had been on his own since.

There had been his squad, sure, but they had been… fellow soldiers. You never opened up around anyone, too careful not to fall into anyone's bad graces, end up on some shit list. You didn't make close friends; end of story. With the fall of the Empire came the lifestyle of a hunted hunter, someone who still worked for credits, was employed by warlords and old die-hards, but the armor had been a huge target on his back. He had wanted to survive, plain and simple.

Until the day he had run into the Mandalorian with the weird little kid.

Sometimes, bad luck turned into good luck, which was then balanced between good and bad all of a sudden. Whatever steps Corin had taken after their fateful encounter on that inhospitable ice planet, they had taken him to here and now. With a Mandalorian he knew next to nothing about. A man he trusted. A man he wanted to feel worthy of. Someone Corin wished thought he, Corin, was worth something, too.

No, he knew nothing about him, but he didn't care. Even if he never saw that face, if all he could ever touch was the sliver of bare skin on his wrist, it was enough.

This… this was new. It was confusing and so clear in one. The way he behaved around the Mandalorian, the emotions boiling through him, the need to prove to the man that he, Corin, was worth it all… it was all new. The Mandalorian didn't really need him, but he didn't kick him out either. He had taken care of him when Corin had been injured instead of abandoning him to either heal on his own or die. Three times now.

Why?

Why did he tolerate Corin, who was no Mandalorian and had no idea when he was trespassing into an area that might earn him a fist to the face? He had touched the man's skin, a sliver of skin, and he hadn't been shot for his daring move. Crossing invisible boundaries. And he had done it again. And once more. Always playing with fire, but unable to resist.

Why?

The pull he felt toward the Mandalorian was inexplicable, but it was there and it was only growing stronger.

And then there was the child.

No child had ever launched such an intense reaction in Corin before either. He wanted to protect the little being without the promise of a reward, of payment. He did it because it felt right. That was all. The kid with the large ears and big, black eyes, with the ability to heal almost certainly fatal wounds, and who was so powerful at such a young age.

"You saved my life," he told the child as he sat outside, soaking up the sun that was peeking out from behind thick clouds.

Large eyes looked sleepily at him.

"I met him because of you. Never might have otherwise. And even if I had run into him, I would have been a Stormtrooper, the relic of a cruel Empire. The enemy. Some unlucky soul who couldn't find a better job to pay some credits."

The child made a soft sound.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be here today if it hadn't been for you, kid. I owe you as much as I owe him. You and him, you keep saving me. For some reason."

A small green hand reached out to him from within the folds of the blanket and Corin took it, smiling stupidly at the happy gurgle the contact evoked. He felt the same happiness. Because of a child that wasn't his own; who was insanely powerful and still absolutely innocent. Because he was part of this little family in a weird, yet to be defined way. Because he had a purpose.

The child gripped his finger and he felt a sense of belonging. And home.

tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

Since he couldn't do much else, Corin spent time reading up on things he considered possibly useful. Something he had immediately decided could be very useful was learning Mando'a. As a Stormtrooper, knowing Basic had been mandatory, but nothing much else. Those who came from cultures with their own language knew another language, but Corin himself had never bothered. It was either Basic or the HUD did the translation for him.

He no longer had a HUD or a helmet to speak of. That meant learning the old-fashioned and hard way.

"Your pronunciation is appalling."

Startled, Corin almost dropped his pad. The child wobbled on his lap, burbling in surprise at his sudden shift. He automatically used one hand to keep it from accidentally sliding off.

"Uh, I…"

For some reason, Corin felt like he had done something wrong, something bad, had overstepped boundaries again. Had made a fool of himself.

"Mando'a is a flexible language, a spoken language. You don't learn it from reading."

Corin put the data pad down. The child gurgled, reaching for it. He absent-mindedly pushed it further away.

"You want to learn," the Mandalorian stated. He sounded a bit mystified.

The former Stormtrooper looked down at the child, hot embarrassment racing through him for no apparent reason. "Yeah," he murmured.

"Why?"

Corin shrugged. "It's… your language." _It's part of you_ , he wanted to say but was too cowardly to do so. _I want to learn it because of you._

"It's Mando'a. To understand and be able to speak Mando'a is not expected of outsiders."

That hurt. So much more than any physical wound. Outsider. He was an outsider. A reminder that he wasn't a Mandalorian. Corin by now knew that being a Mandalorian wasn't a matter of being born one. Mandalorians adopted foundlings from different species. Well, he was well past the adoption age and he really didn't want to be considered a foundling.

"You are not bound to adhere to the Resol'nare."

He had read about that, too. The central tenets of Mandalorian life: wearing armor, speaking the language, defending oneself and family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to the clan's welfare, and when called upon by the Mand'alor, rallying to their cause. Corin had been strangely struck by those simple ways, how they showed in the Mandalorian's actions, and he knew he would never be able to be like him.

"I will teach you."

His eyes snapped up and he knew he was gaping at the bounty hunter, stunned. "Really?" he managed. "W-why?"

"It might prove useful."

He nodded emphatically. Useful was good.

"And your pronunciation wouldn't be so horrendous."

Was that a joke? Was it? There had been a sliver of amusement in the low voice. Corin was sure of it.

The Mandalorian looked silently at him and Corin felt strangely exposed. He tried not to squirm. The child reached for the pad again, making restless little noises.

"Thank you," Corin finally broke the silence.

It got him a brief nod.

And that was that.

*

The bounty hunter checked the healing injuries every day, and his leather-gloved fingers against Corin's skin had Corin want to lean into the contact. Each caress was careful, gentle, trying not to inflict more pain, and strangely intense.

He caught the hand as the Mandalorian wanted to immobilize the shoulder once again.

"I think I should start moving it more," he said softly, holding on to the wrist.

The Mandalorian was frozen, twitching not a single muscle.

Corin's thumb brushed over warm skin, the tiny gap between the glove and the sleeve. It was always there now. Like a tease, only for him, daring him to touch.

And Corin did. Wanted to. Always.

It was close to electric, making him slide his thumb underneath the material, pushing it up, needing more area or skin-to-skin contact.

He curled two fingers over the warmth, barely breathing.

The Mandalorian stiffened and there was a light shudder. Corin almost felt him catch his breath.

He moved his thumb in a tiny circle.

The pulse underneath his touch hammered.

His own thundered in his ears.

His whole body was vibrating with unreleased tension.

Something rippled between them. It was there and gone again in a flash and Corin wondered if he had ever truly felt it.

For a long moment they looked at one another, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Corin had no idea what to do, how to act, what steps to take. He had had a few closer relationships, but never this pull. He had never been really attracted to anyone, so he had no experience in that regard, but this wasn't that. Yes, there was an attraction. He couldn't deny it. But this was so much more.

This wasn't about a quick get-together. This wasn't about seeing the other man's face.

There was a sharp pull again and he closed his eyes. The pull came from deep inside, from a private intimate place. It wasn't just a chemical reaction, it was almost… soul-deep.

His fingers stilled, curled more tightly around the Mandalorian's wrist, like an anchor to him while offering the same to the other man. The familiar presence was there now, strong and powerful, unmovable.

The Mandalorian's free hand cupped his face, the gesture so intimate and personal, Corin's eyes flew open and he stared at the black visor.

The leather was soft, almost like real skin, the gloves giving the Mandalorian a dexterity that rivaled naked hands. For all Corin cared it could be just naked skin on his.

Something arced through him, leaving him wide open and vulnerable, exposed to the impenetrable stare, and the sensation between them tightened to the breaking point.

It should feel like a stale-mate, but it wasn't. It was a huge step, a gigantic leap, and the intimacy was amazing.

"Be careful with that shoulder," the Mandalorian said quietly, breaking the silence.

Corin's mouth felt dry, his voice gone. He felt a myriad of emotions, unable to put a single one into words.

He briefly squeezed the wrist in his grip, realizing the sleeve had ridden up more so his palm was mostly in contact with the naked skin.

And then the touch against his face was gone, the other hand extricated from his hold in a practiced move. The Mandalorian stepped back, then left.

Corin remained where he was, heart hammering, skin tingling.

He bit his lower lip, feeling both parched and energized in one.

A cooing burp had him look down and he had to smile at the curious look. The child made vowel sounds, cooing again. It looked extremely proud and satisfied for some reason.

"What happened?" he asked faintly.

It smiled happily.

"I think I'm still under the influence," Corin whispered and sat down.

The child waddled over to him, burbling, hands stretched for him.

He laughed and lifted it onto his lap.

It got him another satisfied coo.

Corin grinned at the perked ears, then rubbed a hand over his cheek where the Mandalorian had touched him. The hand that had been in contact with the warm, human skin of the other man.

It still sparked a lot of sensations inside him.

The child patted the hand in question, then curled tiny fingers around his thumb. It made quizzical noises.

"You think he likes me enough to keep me around, despite being more effort than worth?"

It gurgled.

"Well, you're a baby. You are always more effort. I'm a grown man and I should be able to make it on my own, but hey, look at me: all bad luck and barely a break. But I think he was my lucky break and somehow he doesn't grow tired of me."

There was an echo deep inside him, intimate, warm, longing, close. It enveloped his soul, held it tightly, eased his renewed self-flagellation.

Corin exhaled sharply and stared at the child.

"Is this you?"

It got him a head tilt, the small hands still gripping his thumb.

No, this wasn't the child.

It was a reflection of before, of his own emotions, his longing, his need, and it seemed to echo along that weird connection he felt to the Mandalorian.

*

His shoulder’s mobility was almost back to normal, the break in his arm was mending, though heavy lifting came with sharp reminders that it wasn’t perfect yet. Corin took great care to keep training, to rebuild the muscle. The drugs were by now out of his system and he no longer looked so thin and faint.

The Mandalorian watched him, took in the growing strength, physically as well as mentally, and he was pleased with the development. And yes, he was keeping a very close eye on the former Stormtrooper, taking in even the slightest hitch in his breathing when an abused muscle pulled uncomfortably or when the still sore arm and shoulder complained. And no, he didn't let his eyes linger on the lean form, soaking up the smooth skin on display as Corin worked out. He was definitely not studying the play of muscle, the sheen of sweat, listening to small puffs of air.

A grimace alerted him that it was time to put a stop to the work-out.

"Enough," he growled.

It got him a heated glare. Corin was in his undershirt, arms bare, the broken arm still supported by a brace. "I'm fine."

He reached out and grabbed one arm. "You are overdoing it. Do not reinjure yourself."

Indignation rose inside him. Corin's eyes sparked with a fire he had seen in them before. It was a fire that seemed to resonate inside the Mandalorian, touched something almost primal in his soul. 

"I'm fine!"

The Mandalorian tightened his grip on the bare arm, staring hard into the defiant features. He felt a wave of protectiveness rise while simultaneously cursing every stubborn cell in Corin's body.

"You are not and you won't be if you overdo it."

The other man's lips tightened into a thin line. He finally looked away.

"Corin," he said, low and calm.

It had the other man snap his eyes back to meet the visored gaze. He finally licked his lips, shoulders slumping, defeated.

"Don't," the Mandalorian repeated, voice more imploring now. "You push yourself. There is no need."

"The faster I heal, the faster we can leave. I can pull my weight again."

"I'm in no hurry to leave."

Corin blinked at him, flabbergasted. Surprise, confusion and something like hope flared in those too expressive for his own good eyes. The man was too open for his own good. For the Mandalorian's good. And his emotional sanity.

And with that he left.

Corin watched him walk away, the tension between them different than before. It wasn't just the Mandalorian's dissatisfaction with what he was doing to get back in shape again. It was something else.

As if the bounty hunter was truly still worried…

But he was healing! He was a lot better than just a few days ago. He was free of the drugs, he was able to walk without keeling over, and he could go for a few hours without being completely exhausted.

Okay, he wasn't in any shape to find work that paid well, but that was another chapter. He would get there, he would find some way to make money, and he would add to supporting them.

"He's worried."

The child cooed and he found it standing next to him, as silent in its movements as its bad ass bounty hunter guardian.

"I think he's really worried."

Because if Corin undid all the medic and the costly medication had done, they would be stuck here even longer, the nasty voice snarled harshly.

For the first time since joining the Mandalorian, Corin ignored it.

The child smiled and held out its arms. He picked it up and playfully tickled an ear. It got him a little squeal.

tbc...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we are getting closer to a more intimate moment. I have plans. Lots of plans. Some already written :)
> 
> Sorry for a shorter chapter. Work; no time; tired. 'nuff said.

He was no longer alone.

He had the child. He had a small green being who depended on him for survival. He had an innocent, force-sensitive baby who trusted him, who had actually saved him early on in their lives together, before the Mandalorian had even consciously thought of protecting the tiny being from any kind of harm.

He had risked everything, right down to his life and reputation. He had turned the Guild against him, turned his back on everything he had ever known, had uprooted his old life, and he had never regretted it for a moment.

Because of the child.

To protect the child, keep it safe.

It was a connection unlike any other, and it had started the moment he had met those large, black eyes. The Mandalorian had no idea what had happened, why he had reacted so strongly to the innocent little being. Maybe because of his own past? Maybe because this had been a possible orphan in need?

He had no idea.

It had simply been the right thing to do.

His moral code had not let him kill the child. He had taken the target, had refused to fulfill the contract, and he had painted a huge target on his own back in turn.

He had never regretted it for a moment.

And then he had saved a Stormtrooper's life. Because of the child.

Corin was a whole different kind of special and had grown from enemy to tolerated travel companion to partner to something the Mandalorian couldn't put a term to. He couldn't think of a word that accurately described the man.

Like with the child he also had no real explanation as to why he hadn't kicked the soldier off his ship right away. Why had he saved him? Just because the child had insisted to save him? Or had it been something else about the man?

A man who had grown closer and closer to him; closer than anyone from his own tribe had ever been. He wouldn't leave him behind, wouldn't accept his sacrifice. He wasn't cannon fodder or just a number.

He was Corin.

And Corin was now part of his new family.

He belonged.

A man who, under any other circumstances, he would never have called his equal in anything.

But he was.

More so.

Corin held a power over him that had nothing to do with how compatible he felt. It was so much more.

And he was slowly starting to understand; very slowly. He was extremely reluctant to show hope, to accept that he was valued and wanted. Somehow he always seemed to wait for the other shoe to drop, for the Mandalorian to grow tired of him.

He was also the only one to ever be allowed to touch him as he had, to take such liberties. He had never been too bold, had never threatened the Mandalorian's belief, his religion, his way of life. The Way had never included a companion, be it a former bounty he had saved and who couldn't talk; nor had it ever included someone who was emotionally connected to the Mandalorian.

Mandalorians didn't do emotional connections. Outside of family.

Corin had torn down that belief and broken into his life, leaving him reeling.

The touch had been more intimate than it should be possible, had touched something no one had ever managed to get even close to.

There was garbled cooing and babble and the Mandalorian discovered the child. It had climbed out of his bed and silently padded into the main room. Corin was probably still sleeping.

He picked up his little charge, settling him on his lap, facing him.

"You should be sleeping," he told the child sternly.

It regarded him curiously, head tilting, oversized ears moving up and down. It warbled, mouth forming into a bright smile.

His family. His child. Many had remarked on it and the Mandalorian knew it was an unyielding fact in his life now. It was his. He was the guardian, the protector, the one who had sworn his life to the child. His.

Another warble.

He held out one finger and the child grabbed it, holding on with a strength one wouldn't suspect that tiny body to have. The little guy was rather resilient, tougher than he looked, very fast and agile on his feet, and he was force-sensitive. The latter was something the Mandalorian was always aware of, but he had used it sparingly. It exhausted the child.

He knew there was no love lost between Mandalorians and Jedi, but this wasn't a Jedi. It was a child growing into an ability. He was force-sensitive, but he hadn't been born a Jedi, hadn't been raised as one. He was a child; innocent.

He was a child who had made decision by instinct concerning what was a supposed enemy. Maybe it could see more than the Mandalorian might ever perceived because of his abilities.

"You wouldn't have saved him from falling into the ice crevasse. You wouldn't have helped him survive a gut shot. You wouldn't accept him. If he wasn't the right one," he said softly.

The child gurgled cheerfully, smiling at him as if the Mandalorian had finally understood something the little one had been aware of for months now.

"He is the right one."

It got him a soft coo.

He smiled behind his helmet, moving his finger.

The child happily held on, testing his strength against his guardian's.

Corin was the right one. He felt it deep down in his very soul.

*

The mellow feeling between them was growing. It was what had started so long ago, in a moment the Mandalorian was hard pressed to define, and it had only flourished with each day Corin was travelling with him, with them, taking care of the child, helping maintain the ship, helping to earn enough to resupply the ship. It was something that twisted sharply whenever the former Stormtrooper pulled a hair-raising stunt to protect the child; or the Mandalorian.

“Do you trust me?”

The question, which came out of the blue, stunned him, made him speechless, and he stared at Corin.

He took in the slender form, the way the other man held himself. He was still aching from what he had gone through, but he powered through each day with a determination that bordered on dangerous. The Mandalorian hated to see him hurt, how he had to pull back from a task because the arm or the shoulder wouldn't let him lift or carry something.

The question threw him a little, but it was also not too complicated.

“Yes,” he heard himself answer.

Corin's face briefly lit up, the emotions only too clear, and it triggered something inside the Mandalorian. Something not so new, something not so dangerous, but something very intense and overwhelmingly real.

"Thank you," Corin said, sounding earnest, eyes reflecting how serious he was. "For everything. For trusting me with the kid. With the ship. You. I know I should do better to pull my weight around here. You keep saving me, endangering yourself and the kid. You could leave me, kick me out. You're not."

The Mandalorian found himself pushing the other man against the wall. It had become a theme for them. It was never violent, more like moving in a dance where the steps were made up along the way. Corin didn't fight back, was loose and open in a way he had never felt him before. A by now so very familiar tingle associated with the affection he held for this man whispered through him.

He curled his good hand around the Mandalorian's wrist. The determination in the narrow face never faltered, nor did he show fear.

"You are not a burden," he told the man, repeating what he had said before. "You are a part of… this."

"I am?"

"You are trusted." _Important._

They were inches apart, the Mandalorian quite aware of the soundless resonance between them, of something curling through his stomach, reaching out from him to Corin and refusing to back down.

"I… I don't… I don't want to leave," Corin said softly, fingers tightening around his wrist.

For a moment it was like the air stood still, as if something was about to happen.

"Then don't."

Corin suddenly rested his head against the silver helmet, his exhalation shaky, the tremor running through his body echoing with the Mandalorian's. It was a daring move, taking matters a leap forward that neither man had been prepared for.

"What if I never want to leave?"

Just the thought of him leaving had the Mandalorian want to lock him up; tie him down. He had never been possessive of anything and the sensation was heady and dangerous in one.

"Then don't," he heard himself grate. “Ever.”

It sounded so easy, felt so easy to say. So simple. Maybe it was.

The thrum between them was almost palpable.

The bounty hunter rested his free hand on the narrow hip, anchoring himself and Corin in turn.

He felt grounded, at peace. Calm and collected. And the physical closeness didn't distort that feeling in the slightest. It added to it, made it real.

This… this… He couldn’t put his need into words. So different, so fascinating, so… new and unwavering.

The Mandalorian marginally tightened his hold, heard Corin exhale, felt him relax into the contact.

“I care about you,” he murmured.

More than he should, more than anything that had ever mattered to him.

Corin raised his head, blue eyes wide in clear shock as his mind translated the simple words in what they truly meant.

There was a happy squeal and coo.

They turned their heads and found the child standing on the chair, eyes bright with happiness. The ears were perking with excitement and it gurgled at them, arms waving.

Corin laughed, a free, open sound. He shook his head, eyes bright with amusement.

"I think someone wants attention."

The Mandalorian still gripped one hip, was still very close, was still reluctant to move his wrist out of the by now so familiar intimacy of Corin's fingers.

He finally pushed back and the child warbled in delight as he picked it up. He glanced at Corin, who still looked so openly delighted, so happy, no shadows in his eyes.

The resonance inside him pinged sharply again, something trying to twist lose and just… just act.

The Mandalorian fought it down, refused to surrender. He walked away, mind whirling with what had happened.

tbc...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! *cracks knuckles* Here we go into uncharted territory! At least we're starting to head into a certain direction...

Corin respected the Mandalorian's code of never taking off the helmet around another person and always had. It was the Way. It was something deeply ingrained in him and it was part of who he was.

He had no trouble with it either, he mused as he did his rounds on his usual track. He had taken to working on his endurance, building up muscle in a different way than weights.

Never had had trouble with it. For some reason seeing the man's face was not important. He seemed to have developed a sixth sense for the Mandalorian's moods, his invisible facial cues, reading the body language, even though the other barely even shifted sometimes, and listening to the verbal inflections that told more than any facial movement.

He had a sense of him. Corin took the trampled path along what had been the edge of the farm once, easily navigating between the uneven ground, the dark roots of fallen vegetation, and some cracked boulders. A freaky, intense sense. Tiny movements told so much, his body so very verbal in many ways. Not seeing his face? Really not important. Being allowed to touch, to run his fingers over visible skin, that had been more of a miracle and a revelation than anything else.

Corin didn't think about the Why and How too deeply. He attributed his ability to read the Mandalorian to the fact that in full armor, Stormtroopers were just as hard to read and he had had to go by other cues.

Yes, that had to be it.

Old instinct.

On his back, the child watched the landscape. He took him along whenever he went for a run, much to his delight. He watched everything with bright, open eyes, bounding along with the guardian who carried him.

Corin was getting better, could run longer stretches, physically improving. Mentally, he had found a different kind of balance. He had a sense of belonging, for the first time in a very long time. This wasn't a job; he wasn't paid to be here. He wanted… so very much and so much.

Blunt claws brushed over his neck and the child warbled. He grinned.

"We'll be home soon."

He hopped easily over a fallen tree, then decided on the slightly longer way. The child simply enjoyed the ride.

*

He hadn’t really planned it, but he had given the idea a lot of thought as of late. He had had enough time on his hands since he couldn't really do a lot around the house or the ship. So he had time to think about his life, his situation in general, the Mandalorian and the child in particular, and maybe even about his future.

A lot had happened lately.

A whole lot.

Some of it he still couldn't make sense of, but just thinking of their closeness, that moment when they had been a breath apart, had him smile and relive that incredible rush of emotions and warmth.

It was also that singular moment that had given birth to a new kind of determination, a fresh confidence.

In the confines of the ship it had been a given that they slept in shifts, that they rarely shared close quarters, unless it was necessary. He usually joined the Mandalorian in the cockpit when he had nothing else to do, which was most of the time, but that was about it.

When planet-side they did share living quarters of sorts, but so far there hadn’t been quiet moments, just one problem after another, lots of running, hiding, and the Mandalorian dragging his sorry butt back to wherever they might get a breather.

Now they were here and it looked that, for the foreseeable future, they would be staying.

It was really nice. Comfortable. Peaceful.

Which was why he had had time to ponder so many things. Little things. Mandalorian-related things.

And which was why he had come up with an insane idea; an idea that would probably get him killed at the hands of a man who trusted him.

Because of that trust, Corin’s courage to propose the arrangement had come to life.

“I'm dead,” he murmured, running shaky fingers over the black material in his hands.

The child made a quizzical sound.

He sighed.

“And I’m a coward, right?”

It cooed, tilting his head, big ears flopping.

Rejection was terrible. It was his nightmare. Rejection, getting kicked out, having to leave this little safe haven he had found. Leaving a family he had never thought he needed; a family that was more to him than his own life.

The new confidence faltered briefly, then he pushed the dark thoughts and fears aside.

It might be the only thing he could ever do to… what? Thank the Mandalorian? Repay him? Settle a debt.

No.

Corin knew it wasn't that. It was a gesture that came from somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

It took him the rest of the week to work up the nerve to approach the other man and make the offer.

Corin was prepared for more than rejection. He was ready for the worst. Mentally he was prepared to be left behind on this backwater world, abandoned because he had dared to… dared to… show him a loophole in the Way?

This was his religion; he took it seriously. Corin had read enough about the culture to understand, even if some restrictions seemed to have been added later, after the Purge. After the Empire had annihilated a whole culture, after Jedi had done their part.

The Mandalorian cared about him, had actually said it out loud. It was a trust of some kind already; it was a confession of something deeper between them. This was a way for him to return this trust, to offer something in return.

Now the Mandalorian stared at him through the helmet and he probably had an expression on his face that said ‘Have you lost your mind?’ quite clearly.

“Bad idea?” Corin hedged, ready to make a quick escape.

Pack his meagre belongings. Hope to be tolerated on his own by the planet, to stay a little longer and pray he could find work or any kind of way to survive on his own.

Slim chances there. Those plants would probably eat him within a minute of the Mandalorian and the child leaving.

His question was met by silence.

He looked away, unable to meet the wordless stare any longer. For all he could read the Mandalorian so clearly sometimes, he was now completely shuttered.

“I just… I mean, it’s dark anyway, and this way there wouldn’t be a single chance of me seeing your face… and it’s only about that, right? And you really need to sleep in a proper bed. I know you’re using that sad excuse of a chair outside. Or the floor. I also know you won’t take the helmet off because of me.”

Silence.

“And we have always been in close quarters, so that’s been a given. Me being around you. All the time. Too risky, right? It can't be good to live like that. I know you had that freedom before I came along… So I'm interfering with your life style, your habits, and probably a lot with your religion. Which I'm sorry for! I'm not really sure if I ever overstepped… I mean, you haven't shot me yet, so there's that, but you haven't had a really private moment, without me blundering in and probably doing something sacrilegious…”

“I have taken it off.”

Corin blinked as his nervous rambling was interrupted. Huh, what?

“I have taken it off,” the Mandalorian repeatedly patiently. Okay, so he had spoken out loud again.

“In the ship while lugging my unconscious body to this place?”

“No.”

No?

The head-tilt was almost comical.

“You were unconscious or asleep in this place for a while, too.”

Oh. Oh!

Corin felt his insides do a weird little twist. Oh…

“But not since I woke," he still argued. Part of him wondered if he really had a death wish. "Because you’re always busy. You take care of the ship, of the kid… me." He fought down another wave of worthlessness, feeling the self-doubt raise its ugly little head and sneer at him. He beat it with a stick and gathered the revived courage. "You only eat when I sleep. Or have left the room. Which is okay. You know I respect that. I respect you." _So much!_ "I could leave now, too, and…”

“No!”

The word was snapped harshly, almost violently, and the former Stormtrooper rocked back a little.

“I meant I could go on a little hike,” he said quickly. “For a few hours. Spend some time at the village. Give you the space and privacy to…”

“No!” This time it held a fierce warning, a finality that accepted no argument. There was a shift in the man's posture that needed to be taken seriously.

Corin exhaled. His fingers clenched into the tightly woven cloth that had been the source of this argument.

"Or we… alternate using the bed," he said softly. "I can sleep on the floor or the chair."

"No."

“I just want to do this for you!” he blurted, feeling desperate. _Please…!_

The Mandalorian stood completely still, looking lethally dangerous and strangely indecisive in one.

“It’s… it’s the least I can do,” Corin stammered. “Since you saved me… and didn’t kick me off the Razor Crest at the next more or less hospitable planet, or any planet at all… or space station… or wherever… you’re living with a lot of… compromises. Restrictions…" He gestured weakly, nerves showing again. This was really, really awkward. "I'm not Mandalorian."

“No, you are not.”

That still hurt, even if it was just a conformation of his own statement.

The Mandalorian tilted his head a little. "I do not show my face to anyone,” he stated matter-of-fact. “Not even another Mandalorian. It is the Way."

Oh. "Oh." He flailed a little. "Right. So… This is the only thing I can think of… to help… I tried finding a visor or goggles in the past, but there’s nothing I can use. And this is basic enough that you’d be safe knowing I can’t cheat. Which I’d never do. I promise. We're safe here. You can be safe here, taking off the helmet, be… you…. like you're used to. Before me. Get some rest. Real rest. In bed.”

There was a minute shift, stopping the torrent of words.

“You would restrict your vision, be vulnerable.”

He almost laughed. He was always vulnerable, especially compared to the other man, two working eyes or not. He might be a trained soldier, but he wasn't the war machine this man was. Watching him fight was like a perfect dance. The Mandalorian moved in a way Corin could only dream about. Corin was just point and shoot. Sure, he was a good marksman, but close combat was harder for him. Stormtroopers didn't get into a lot of hand to hand combat situations.

“Let’s call it a loophole," he offered tentatively. "You can't take the helmet off in front of anyone, but you're not oathbound to never remove it. I don't want to force you into a life you didn't choose, so this is the solution. Even on the ship! I won't see you and it's safe for everyone involved! You wouldn't go against the Way. I don't mind this…” He held up the blindfold.

He didn't mind doing it for him. He would do this, even for more than a night, even on the ship, if it meant the Mandalorian could go back to having this small amount of personal choice.

The Mandalorian regarded him, the expression intense even though Corin couldn’t see it. There was another minute shift.

“I’m surprised no one ever thought of it,” he added helplessly, as the silence stretched. He hated this kind of silence.

“No one has. For my people to blind themselves is to be vulnerable. You can easily be surprised and killed."

Corin nodded. He understood that.

"You have to trust the one you handicap yourself for."

"You know I trust you. With my life." With everything.

The Mandalorian studied him, the weight of his gaze making Corin even more nervous and slightly anxious.

"People want to see behind the mask. They want to know.”

“Well, I don’t,” he blurted.

Liar! He did. He really did. But he respected the Mandalorian way too much to demand something impossible. It was his code, his Way. It was the Mandalorian. He would never sneak up on him, trying to catch him with his helmet off. This was who the Mandalorian was: fully body armor and hidden face Corin couldn't but respect that. He would protect the Mandalorian's privacy as fiercely as he protected the child.

Somehow it wasn't important. Not at all. What he felt around this man didn't stem from some handsome face. It was deeper, came from a different place, had Corin want to keep it, cherish it, never endanger this connection between them.

“You would willingly impair yourself?”

“Yes.”

"It's dangerous to a warrior."

He almost immediately evaded that intense gave, shoulders hunching slightly.

Warrior. Right. As if. He was a glorified puppet. He wasn't a warrior. Not of the likes of a Mandalorian. He had never had a code of honor of himself; he had developed a conscience, though.

“Why, Corin? Why do this?”

“I told you.”

“You owe me nothing. There is no debt to be paid.”

The words seemed flat, but there were a million verbal cues for Corin to read.

"But…"

“Do you doubt my word?”

He frantically shook his head. “No! Of course not!” Corin exhaled sharply. "We're safe here," he repeated. "It’s absolutely safe for you. No one knows we’re here. You wouldn't have let us stay this long unless we weren't."

The Mandalorian inclined his head.

"So it's safe in that way, too." He held up the blindfold. "Safe for you to be free. As if you were alone. Before me. Uhm, I mean, would the child count?”

The bounty hunter seemed to consider the question. Had the child ever seen the Mandalorian’s face? Probably. Was it a breach of the code?

“No.”

“Alright. So it’s only me.” Damn, that hurt. “And I can solve that problem, give you some freedom… like before.” He brandished the blindfold. “It locks in the back. It's entirely covering my eyes, not letting any light through."

Gloved hands finally reached out and took the piece of cloth. The Mandalorian studied it with an intensity as if it was a dangerous weapon.

Corin squared his shoulders as he met the silent stare, refusing to back down, for once refusing to lower his gaze, to give in.

“I do not need to remove my helmet to survive,” the Mandalorian said mildly.

He refused to be baited, staring bravely at the other man. Corin pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to argue once more.

Silence. Then,

“You are very stubborn.”

“So I have been told.”

Another silence.

“Very well. I accept.”

Reluctantly, Corin heard the unspoken addition. But a large part of him was cheering with relief.

He wanted the other man to be comfortable. At least in his own skin. Having Corin around had to have been a huge restriction on his life. This was he could repay some of that accumulating debt.

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

It was absolutely dark. From one moment to the next there was only black, no gray shadows at all. There was nothing for him to focus on but the sounds and the smells around him.

Corin felt a sliver of fear, of unease, because not seeing was new to him. Inside a Trooper helmet he had had a lot of input, even if it had been artificial. He had been used to seeing readings and getting information that way.

Now there was nothing. Yes, he could still hear, he could still feel, but sight was important.

He forced himself to relax and turned on his side, familiar with the mattress and the sense of the room as such, unfamiliar with the complete lack of light. Curling up slightly, face to the wall to assure the Mandalorian he was truly not peeking, Corin willed the tension to go away.

He failed.

He was tight-strung, about to claw off the blindfold. No. No, this had been his idiotic idea! He would go through with it. To the very end!

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched. The contact was firm, but still hesitant in a way. As if the other was unfamiliar with this kind of situation.

Maybe he was.

Just like him.

“Corin.”

The voice was soft, low, strangely soothing. A voice not filtered by a helmet. A natural voice.

The Mandalorian had taken off the helmet, he realized. The apprehension and tension changed into giddiness.

"Corin."

It wasn't so different, he thought, the tremor not one of fear at all.

"I'm good," he rushed out.

He was very gently urged to lay flat on his back again, the hand on his shoulder sliding to touch his arm. He was intensely aware of the point of contact, of the tingle of warmth, the low-key thrum.

“It's a bad idea,” the Mandalorian said.

“I’m okay,” he repeated.

Silence. Corin struggled to hear anything but the blood rushing through his ears.

There was a soft, so very human sigh.

“You are tenacious.”

"One of my many useless talents," he quipped.

The hand around his arm tightened marginally. "You are never useless. You simply have the self-preservation instinct of a bark mite."

Corin snorted. The solidity, the realness, of the touch was distracting. And grounding. His only true reference, aside from the voice.

"You throw your life away so easily," the Mandalorian continued.

"I don't."

"You go up against overwhelming odds and accept that it will kill you."

"I accept that it protects you. You protect the child. You're his only protection, his safety."

There was a long silence and Corin barely breathed, so very much aware of the physical closeness in every cell of his body.

"Your life is worth more than that of a… shield…You're his guardian, too."

He swallowed. Corin loved the little green guy. A lot. Just imagining not being part of his life… of the Mandalorian's life… it hurt. So very much.

"I…"

Fingers brushed over the band around his eyes, along the edge where it met soft skin, then over the locking mechanism on the back of his head.

Fingers no longer protected by gloves, by armor. Just… fingers.

"You mean something. Your life means something. To others. Him." A heartbeat. "Me. You do things I want to kill you for. Like this. It still is a horrendously bad idea,” the Mandalorian told him.

"No. No, it isn't. I trust you.”

Silence again.

"I do," he whispered. "Completely."

"You trust too easily."

The Mandalorian sounded almost puzzled; a little conflicted.

He smiled thinly. "Actually, no. I don't I never trusted anyone like that. At least for a long time. I do trust you, though. With my life. You kinda blew through my shields and had me make really bad decisions."

Like acting as the human shield the Mandalorian had already criticized him for.

The fingers stilled.

Corin decided to just run with in. "You didn't shoot me back then. I saved your life in turn. I let you go while misleading my commanding officer. Not something they teach you in any army."

"No," the Mandalorian acquiesced. "They don't." He brushed the back of his fingers along Corin's temple.

It had him shiver. The explorative, still slightly hesitant tenderness had him ache for more.

“But you made a decision.”

“I developed a conscience.”

“You always had one.”

His breath caught a little and he felt more tense than ever before. There was a dip. He curled onto his side once more, making room, trying to take up less space. The bed was, in theory, big enough, but it still meant closeness. The Mandalorian hadn’t handled that so well those past few times.

He bit his lower lip as the mattress moved, then there was a warmth against his back that sent a low frission of apprehension and excitement through him.

That could have been the end of it, but it wasn't. The next move startled the former Stormtrooper so badly, he didn't even manage to flinch away. In his wildest dreams he wouldn't have thought this could happen.

They had shared a bed before, sure. It had been a big bed, enough to add two more people comfortably, and they hadn’t touched. Corin hadn’t expected touch now.

Maybe he should have, after everything as of late. It was just the natural progression of their endless dance and his slowly accepted realization that maybe, just maybe, the Mandalorian didn't simply tolerate his physical assault because he was a man of endless patience for idiots like Corin. Everything had been leading to this and the offer to blind himself temporarily had opened both of them up to the possibility of something more personal. More intimate.

An arm was carefully placed over Corin’s waist and he felt the heat of a naked palm through the thin layers of clothing.

It almost had him groan with the sensation of it all.

“Corin?”

It was a halting question, almost pleading, full of emotions Corin himself couldn’t put into words, but he knew they reverberated through him on a purely basic level.

No, this couldn't be happening! Good stuff never happened to him. Good luck, bad luck, sure. Bad stuff like getting shot, beaten up, kidnapped, tortured and drugged? Right where his talents lay. But good stuff like the Mandalorian returning his really rather embarrassing crush? He was hallucinating. It were the drugs. He had a relapse.

Yes, that was it. Relapse.

He did exhale sharply when a face pressed against the nape of his neck, warm breath fanning over the short hairs, stubble scratching teasingly. He thought he heard his name again, hummed against his skin. Almost quizzically.

"You drive me insane." A rough whisper, almost like the Mandalorian couldn't string the words together properly anymore.

He swallowed, his own reply a noise that hadn’t come consciously but seemed to reassure the other man.

This was happening! It was really happening! He wanted to cry with happiness; wanted to run as far and hard as possible; wanted to have the man so much closer and still it wouldn't be close enough.

He heard a whimper. Embarrassingly it came from him.

The Mandalorian aligned himself, breathing soft and slow, almost meditative.

Corin saw nothing. At all. He only felt. And he felt intensely. Every shiver, every breath, every tiny twitch of the ungloved fingers against his stomach.

 _This is new for him_ , part of him whispered, awed. _Totally new. Closeness that doesn't end in pain and death. Trusting... trusting someone else…_

“This is such a terrible, such a bad idea,” the Mandalorian murmured.

The voice was still as deep, as soft, as even as it was with the helmet. The difference wasn’t in the inflection but in the way his lips moved, brushing over Corin’s skin.

“You could have said no,” he heard himself reply, voice hoarse.

“I wouldn’t have been able stop you.”

He almost laughed.

The Mandalorian tightened the hold briefly. Strong fingers clenched into his shirt, then flattened again. Seeking physical contact. Warm, human contact. Closeness. He felt a shudder run through the sinewy body. Like this was what he had needed and had been afraid to ask for.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian finally said.

It was like a surrender and a blessing in one.

He dared to touch the ungloved hand, running a feather-light, explorative caress over the digits.

It got him a hitched breath.

So very human.

So very real.

Corin wrapped his hand over the Mandalorian’s, holding it tight to his stomach

The limb wasn’t pulled back, only the arm over his waist tightened in response.

The touch was real, grounding. It was deeper than skin on skin. It seeped into his very cells and was more than any other being could give him.

They lay like this, in the absolute dark, Corin listening to every whisper, feeling every tiny muscle twitch. Part of him was completely at ease, another was busy panicking. He knew he wasn’t in any danger, that the Mandalorian would be vigilant for the two of them, that nothing could harm them here.

Still…

“Din Djarin.”

The two words startled him. “W-what?”

“Din Djarin. My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

His… his name… His name! Corin felt like he was free falling. Like a rug had been pulled out from under him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His mind was racing, the name repeating over and over.

He knew the Mandalorian’s name.

He was trusted enough to know it. He wasn't Mandalorian and he knew it.

Not that it gave him any kind of power over him, but he knew his name! He had been told, freely given, volunteered to him!

Soft lips pressed against the nape of his neck. It sent warmth through him, spreading through his very soul, stopping his somersaulting train of thought.

"You drive me crazy. All the time. But I care about you," Din Djarin whispered. "I trust you. With my life. With the child."

There was a ragged edge to the words, wild, untamed, needing something he had never put into words.

Corin understood. He really understood. It broke down walls, erased fears, turned his world upside down. The curl of warmth deep in his chest spread everywhere. The sense of the tightly coiled energy was still there, the overflow that had yet to dissipate.

“I care about you,” he echoed the words. "So much."

The Mandalorian breathed softly. He sounded… relieved, content…

Nothing else was spoken. Both men lay together and Corin finally fell asleep, mind mellow and for the first time no longer racing with self-doubt, his whole body so very much aware of the living, breathing heat next to him.

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think they'd be at it like bunnies ;) ;P Nope! This is the slowest of slow burns in history.... glaciers move faster!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I mean: wow!!! You blew me away with the comments on the last chapter. I think I was smiling stupidly for the whole day today!
> 
> Apologies for a shorter chapter again, but I'm ironing out some stuff with the next one after that. 
> 
> And here is the morning after the night before!

He woke to the gray light of morning filtering through the blinds.

In a bed.

With someone else still close to him, taking up personal space like no one else had ever before. A warm, breathing body.

He blinked into the unfiltered light, felt the air against his skin. He hadn't woken without the barrier of the visor between him and the world for a very long time. Since Corin had come aboard.

The Mandalorian turned his head, took in the pliant form next to him.

He felt no alarm. For the first time in his life he was absolutely content. There was a soul-deep quietness to him, so relaxed and easy. There was no rush, no pressure, no need to move. There was nothing but this feeling of being home. And safe.

Corin lay sprawled on his back, still fast asleep, and the black blindfold sat snugly over his eyes, molded to his face like a second skin. It hid almost half his face, impairing his vision completely.

The Mandalorian slowly sat up and studied the man next to him, feeling strangely whole and totally at peace. It felt right to wake up like this, with this man. He had watched him often before, always with the safety of the helmet and visor between him and the world. No one knew what he was looking at, what his expressions were, how long he stared at someone… at Corin.

And he had stared at him often.

Because this man had become someone special, someone he wanted to commit to memory in detail.

He ran an expert eye over the still faintly bruised features, noted the way he still favored his bad arm even in sleep… and how the shirt had ridden up a little, revealing warm, smooth skin.

He reached out and carded his fingers through the unruly hair. It grown some, no longer the required military crew cut, and it felt soft between his fingers. He indulged in caressing the dark strands.

Corin never moved. He was still totally out of it.

Something curled in his stomach. Warm and longing and intense.

He wanted this. Just like this. Slow, intimate, no pressure. He wanted it so, so badly.

He was still stunned by what Corin had offered, what he had done, by the thought he had put into their situation. He had wanted to give something back; something that couldn't be measured in any kind of coin or credit. Something so very private and also so dangerous…

Affection was dangerous. Could be fatal. Could be turned against him.

There was a soft hum emanating from deep within him, reassuring, easing his worries. This was right. This was no weakness. Last night hadn't made him vulnerable. Touching Corin so openly, so freely, had been amazing, feeling the other body next to him in the dark, safe and no barriers between them. No armor. No helmet.

He hadn't broken his oath, hadn't betrayed the Way. He hadn't taken his helmet off in front of someone to see. He could put it back on again, be the Mandalorian. Because Corin had voluntarily and temporarily blinded himself.

He shivered as he looked at the blindfold.

Corin was a soldier and to incapacitate himself like that had to be pure agony, but he had done it. For him.

He trusted the Mandalorian completely. With his life. With this. With all of him.

"You are special," he whispered.

This. This was his. He wanted it. He wouldn't let anyone take it from him.

And he wanted last night to happen again. The Mandalorian wanted the freedom to touch the other man, feel the hard muscles under soft skin, the warmth of his body, the beating of his heart, all without a barrier between them.

As long as Corin was willing to blind himself.

With careful fingers he removed the blindfold. It spoke of Corin's still healing body, as well as his trust in his safety, that he didn't wake. Gazing into the handsome face he smiled a little, then finally rose.

Putting the armor back on. Donning the helmet. Arming himself.

It was time to check the area.

*

He woke without the blindfold.

Corin was slightly confused at first, then felt a flash of panic. The blindfold had slid off! Shit! Damnit! No! He screwed his eyes shut, lungs constricting, stomach clenching. For a long moment he lay motionless, eyes closed, brain racing.

Then something filtered through the panic: he was alone.

There was no one else in the room. He could hear it; feel it.

Corin opened his eyes again and sat up slowly. His eyes fell on the blindfold. It had been taken off, carefully folded, and placed onto the pillow. He hadn’t even felt the Mandalorian remove it.

Din Djarin, he reminded himself.

His name.

Corin felt a giddy smile cross his lips. Knowing this Mandalorian’s name was a big deal; a really big deal. No, it wasn’t a secret pass code and it wouldn’t topple empires and throw the universe into chaos, but it was… special. To him. The simple foot soldier who was trusted with something this amazing.

Din Djarin.

He wouldn’t betray the trust he had been given. He would never address him so personally while anywhere but in complete privacy.

Like in slow motion, a pair of green ears appeared at the edge of the mattress, followed by quizzical dark eyes. There was a little chirp. He smiled at the child as it peered over the frame of the bed as if to check whether he was awake or not.

“Good morning to you too, kiddo."

It burbled. Corin grinned at the little guy.

"Hungry?”

The excited coo told the whole story.

“So am I. Let’s see what we can find, hm?”

The child waddled after him.

He found he was alone in the house, too. The child had apparently climbed out of its own bed and had clearly tried to get to the bowl of dried fruit, which was now on the floor.

Broken.

Corin shot the small being a frown. “Did you try to levitate it to you?” He wriggled his fingers. "Or did you just try to grab it."

The child's innocent expression was tell-tale enough.

“Hm, that needs work. How come you can keep me from falling to my cold, certain death and the next moment you break a small bowl?”

The child flicked both ears, eyes on the broken bowl, then it looked at Corin again as if to say 'beats me!'.

Could he train that with the little guy? How would he train it? He had no idea what force-sensitivity entailed. He had never met anyone with that talent before and the kid seemed to instinctively know what to do.

“Hm, let’s clean that up and then see what’s edible.”

He picked up the child and deposited him on the chair with its extra booster. Corin cleaned up the shards, then scouted through the cupboards to see what they had for breakfast.

The Mandalorian came back from wherever he had gone to just before late afternoon. Corin had put in some muscle training, coupled with endurance. He had checked the scanners, had taken stock of what was stored in the house, then spent hours in the basement and digging through whatever the former owners of the house had left behind.

It was a lot. A dusty, grimy lot. The child was clearly having fun crawling around the stacks upon stacks of stuff and more, playing with whatever caught his fancy. In the end, Corin had to wash the little guy head to toe. And himself.

When the Mandalorian walked into the house, Corin was fresh out of the shower, hair wet, dressed in only his undershirt and pants.

He met the visored eyes, giving the Mandalorian an easy, welcoming smile. That was what he was at the moment: the Mandalorian. Full armor, helmet and weapons. The night before he had been Din Djarin and hopefully he would be Din Djarin again.

The child was snoozing in the nest of blankets in the bedroom, oblivious to the world and very happy after playing and being fed.

For a long time he just looked at the former Stormtrooper, and for the first time Corin felt no doubt, the sneering voice was silent. There was an ease between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Thank you,” the bounty hunter finally said, voice quiet, soft, almost intimate.

More was said in those two words than any monologue could have ever contained. Corin understood. Absolutely.

“You’re welcome. And… I… enjoyed the company." _You. I enjoyed being with you. So very much!_

"So did I." His voice was low, intense, intimate. The Mandalorian came closer.

Corin felt something inside him yearn to touch, to feel, but he bit back on that. "I'm not going to say no to a second time," he blurted. "Or… any number of times… Whenever you want, really…"

The Mandalorian's gaze was intense.

He finally nodded.

Corin beamed at him. He was feeling both relaxed and excited in one, like he could take on a whole platoon and win.

He didn’t imagine the tiny shift, the way the head tilted a fraction, and he knew the Mandalorian was smiling as well.

Between them, something hummed and resonated in the other, comfortable and familiar. It was both tender and strong as beskar, newly formed and yet not so recent either.

Corin cherished it; believed it was real.

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... episode 8... I just about died a few times! From the cute, from the painful, from just about everything and the hundred little things that had me wince, scream and whimper (so many emotions!!).
> 
> Where the heck was Corin? Oh, wait... right... not canon. And he wasn't one of those dead Troopers... nope!
> 
> Also went to correct our Mando's name in my story. 
> 
> Okay, now back to the story. *deep breaths*

The first time Corin went into the small no-name settlement that couldn't even be called a village, he was surprised to find it bustling with life, with people trading merchandise in tiny shops or market stalls. He would have thought it to be more of a collection of huts and maybe whatever the medic used to treat people.

As it was, he counted about twenty houses, made of stone or wood, some simple, some more elaborate.

“There are active farms,” the Mandalorian told him as they walked past the small shops. "They grow their own food, some breed livestock."

The child was in a sling, peering curiously at everything with large eyes. It was absolutely fascinated and not the least bit scared. It made soft sounds, almost like talking to himself or just commenting for Corin's sake.

“They come here to trade. Most won’t accept any kind of monetary payment, only trade.”

Corin nodded. It made sense. Sonsos was not on any trade routes, there was no need for any kind of monetary equivalent, and what he had read about the planet made coming here rather unappealing, right down to suicidal. He wondered what the Mandalorian had traded to get him his clothes, the medication, the treatment. He had never dared to ask. At least it gave him the chance to use the few things he called his own to offer in exchange for whatever supplies were necessary, because money was something he didn’t possess. He might also be able to trade work for food.

No one really gave them any notice. There were looks, but the diversity of settlers showed that whoever came here, they had a reason. And whoever stayed, was accepted.

Would they be this neutral if they knew who Corin was… had been, he corrected himself. He was Corin now. He wasn't CT-113. He would never be that person again, a drone, a puppet who followed commands and hoped luck was on his side.

Were there other former soldiers of the Empire here? Deserters? Or former allies? People who had killed innocents and destroyed whole planets?

The child chirped softly and the small fingers stroked over his neck, almost in a gesture of comfort.

Corin reached back and briefly brushed his fingers over the small hand. A gesture of thanks.

They stopped near a colorful market stall and the Mandalorian started to talk to the owner, a diminutive male of unknown age and species, who was gesturing and making grunting noises. Finally he nodded once and ambled off into the hut behind the stall. He came back with a large box that either weighed little to nothing or he was a lot stronger than he looked. He opened it and took out prepacked dried food, all wrapped in leafs.

The Mandalorian stowed it in the bag he had been carrying. Whatever the payment in trade was, Corin had no idea. He spied a few places where he might just inquire into whether or not they would hire help, already making a plan as to what he could offer.

They stopped by a few more stalls, browsing, Corin committing the layout of the village to memory. The child started to squirm and he let it down to walk, the toddler waddling after them. The Mandalorian immediately adjusted his pace of walking and Corin kept a step behind the child, hyper aware of everyone close by, keeping watch the kid wasn't accidentally kicked or trampled.

Nothing happened. A few more looks, but no hostile or suspicious behavior. Corin couldn't relax completely and he knew the Mandalorian was just as watchful.

The child let himself get picked up at the end of the road, looking both excited and tired in one.

It nodded off on the way back. Corin smiled fondly at it and he caught the Mandalorian shooting them looks.

He flashed the other man a wide smile.

The Mandalorian almost misstepped, then nodded once. Corin grinned to himself.

*

The ship wasn't far from the farm house. The Mandalorian had put it down in a slight dip, the ground inclining gently toward a patch of forest that looked as far from the jungle as the desert. Just regular trees, some grass, some flowers and bushes.

Corin had accompanied the Mandalorian to rummage around the compartments. The child was playing with its favorite silver ball. How he had managed to get it unscrewed was anyone's guess. A long-suffering sigh told Corin that the Mandalorian had no idea either.

They took storage units back to the house. One contained the meagre belongings Corin had kept locked away. Not that he thought anyone would steal them. It was the irrational fear that seeing what he called his own might give away his past.

His Imperial past.

He no longer had his Stormtrooper armor, but he had gutted it before the Mandalorian had discarded of the dangerously tell-tale outfit. Keeping it around would have been inviting trouble. Corin knew how to maintain the armor, so he had quickly stripped essential or probably valuable parts, emptied the belt, and dismantled the helmet to keep circuits, the rebreather, the filters, and the armor's heating unit that had been part of the backpack. It had been all that was left of his old life.

No real personal items. Stormtroopers kept none of that on their person when on duty. What little he had possessed had been in his shared quarters, and by now it had been either taken by another or simply destroyed.

Corin didn't really miss any of it. Nothing had been important.

Okay, well, maybe. There had been a picture of his family. His father, his mother, his uncle. Taken before his mother had died; before everyone had eventually died.

Taking some of the gutted gear as a possible trade-in, he ventured into town, the baby strapped to his back, while the Mandalorian was off to parts unknown. Corin never dared to ask where he went and what he was doing. The planet didn't really offer much in the way of bounty hunting.

He ran into the medic as he made his way down the only road of the place. The huge man was hard to miss. He looked like a brawler, first line of defense, the ones to bowl over the enemy or storm into a building through closed doors. He nodded a greeting, then heavy eyebrows lifted quizzically.

"I hope you're not here because you pulled something."

He grimaced. "No."

"He would kill you if you did."

Corin blinked. "What?"

"The Mando. Tribe and clan is important to them."

"I'm not Mandalorian," he said automatically.

It got him a guffaw. "Yeah, no, you're not. Despite that." He gestured at Corin's armor. The Mandalorian's old armor.

He gritted his teeth. The other shook his head.

"Mandalorians are an interesting people. Almost annihilated through different wars. Proud warriors. Deadly. Revered. Legendary. Taking in orphans, calling them foundlings, accepting them as Mandalorians should they swear the Creed. That's when the helmet comes on and stays on. That's when they become Mandalorians, no matter their species."

"Your point being," Corin said evenly, feeling a weird kind of anger at the words.

He knew it all. He knew he would never qualify as a Mandalorian, and he was fine with it.

The grin was wider now. "He's very protective of you. Emotional bonds are rare. His bond to you is quite interesting to perceive. You are important to him."

Something hot shot through him. Something almost violent. It was a protective instinct that only rivalled what he felt when the child was in danger. Corin refused to show any kind of reaction to the words, gave the other a hard, neutral stare, but the medic grinned widely.

"He saved my life," he ground out. "That's what I owe him."

"Sure." He smirked.

What the…? How did he…? No! He didn't know. He was shooting in the dark and hoping to hit a nerve.

Corin glared at the man. "I'm just looking for a good deal on some things."

No, he wouldn't give away emotions and thoughts. This was personal. So very, very private. What had happened concerned only him and the Mandalorian.

Corin glared at the taller, burlier man, daring him to keep on that path or conversation.

The medic simply turned to look over what was in the satchel, clearly amused by something. His expression shifted as he inspected the parts and Corin suddenly realized that the scraps could still be identified as to where they had come from by someone who knew what to look for.

Oh shit…

"Some good stuff," was the comment, the eyes giving nothing away as they met Corin's. "Still in decent shape. Rebreather looks like a good trade. Or the heating unit. All functional?"

He nodded, mouth dry. If he connected the dots… if he drew the right conclusions… Or had he already and was just waiting? Waiting for what? Would he betray the Mandalorian? Would he…

"Might get you a filter unit in trade. Some of that stuff might even get you some weapons parts."

Corin blinked. "I'd prefer stock. Or medical supplies. Whatever you think this might be worth in payment."

The medic chuckled. "Come. I know someone who might just take most of that for a good deal."

And he went. The child peered out over his shoulder, the world exciting and stimulating to the little being, and Corin sat him down when they arrived at a shop that seemed to specialize in canned and dried food.

The shop owner regarded all his offerings, picked out a few valuable metals from the satchel, agreeing to trade.

So he stocked up on what he decided they needed for the foreseeable future, be it aboard the Razor Crest or here. He also scored some fresh meat and vegetables, following the medic's suggestions as to what was edible for them.

The medic himself inspected the rebreather and air filters of his former armor again when the other shop owner showed no further interest.

Corin loaded a cart with his trade and followed the medic to his small house. It didn't look like a clinic or anything of the like, but the back storage was crammed full of things Corin had never seen before but which were probably needed for his profession.

"Settling in?" the burly man asked casually as he piled medical supplies onto a worn table top.

He ignored the question and picked up a jar of unidentifiable liquid. It moved sluggishly in its container.

"What do you know about the jungle?" he asked as the medic rummaged around a cupboard.

The man stilled, then his sharp eyes narrowed. His lips curled into a humorless smile. "Enough to stay away from it. So should you."

"There isn't much in the databases about Sonsos, let alone the indigenous wildlife. Just a whole lot of warnings."

Corin quickly made a grab for the child as it curiously tried to pry open a lid from a wooden container. It gurgled cheerfully, then attempted to reach the jar in Corin's other hand instead.

"Nope," he told the toddler. "Not for you."

"It's a cooling gel. Unless he drinks it, he'd be fine."

Corin snorted. "You clearly haven't met him yet. This little guy would try to drink it."

The larger man chuckled. "Not many children here. As for those warnings: heed them."

Corin put the jar down, meeting the other man's eyes, still holding the squirming child. "I'm not planning to go into that place. I just… it says… I'm curious because people think it might be sentient. I find that… intriguing."

The medic chuckled. "Oh, it could be. Probably is. Vicious, too."

"And it's everywhere."

"Yep."

He set down the child with a stern look, which got him a guileless one in turn. Yeah, right. 'Stay', he mouthed.

"Sonsos is covered in forest and jungle. I don't think there's a real difference. It's all plants. You have wildlife, but aside from some smaller rodents and lizards, and the insects, I can count bigger game on one hand. It stays inside."

Corin plucked another piece of whatever out of the child's reach. The child ambled off to look at something behind closed glass doors. It made soft, intrigued noises.

"No one's tried to make contact," he remarked.

It got him a rumbling laugh. "Those foolish enough to ignore all warnings never returned. Sometimes you get explorers, scientists, the like. They find mention of this place and are fascinated, want to be the first to make contact. They send in drones. They do fly-overs. Cartographers have tried their luck. Half the drones never send back data. The other half limps back. But what for? We here don't need to talk to another creature to understand. All of us, this place, all the other settlements, we know enough."

Corin thoughtfully pursed his lips. The Empire had never deemed this planet worth expending fuel and resources on, aside from the first scouting missions that had ended in a disastrous loss of life. Everyone who had ever ventured into the jungle had disappeared.

"Why come here and stay?" he asked.

It got him a tilt of the head and a dark smile. "Why are you here?"

Yeah, well… yeah.

"We all have a history. We all have a story. Some sad, some secret, some terrible, some boring. Some decide to tell it. Others leave their past behind. If you stay, you will hear the stories of those willing to tell. It's up to you to tell your own or not."

In his case it would be a big fat 'or not'. Corin played with a wooden ladle, evading those keen eyes. The man probably knew a lot more than he let on. 

"This place feels who belongs," the medic told him and piled a few packs of something into his bag. "Scientists scoff at us. They want data, facts, proof. There is none of that. You can't get any proof. And fact is, the planet is very much alive and aware. Call it empathic, telepathic, one with the force that binds the universe… it doesn't matter here. It knows who you are. It knows who everyone is."

Corin swallowed, fear racing briefly through him. Would it know who and what Corin had been? Was it really telepathic? And if so, how much could an alien, sentient entity understand the memories of a mere nothing like Corin?

He pushed the terrifying thoughts away. No one knew who he had been but the Mandalorian and the child.

The child…

Panic flashed through him as he looked around and found his little charge had disappeared.

"He's outside," the medic rumbled, sounding amused.

"Damnit," he cursed softly under his breath and darted out of the house.

The child was sitting on an overturned, wooden bucket, watching the bustle on the streets with wide eyes. It seemed genuinely fascinated, making soft noises now and then. Corin breathed a sigh of relief and scooped him up, drawing a pleased coo.

"Hm."

He turned to look at the medic. The man was looking at the tangle of leafy growths around the bucket, bushy brows drawn down in thought. At the corner of the house was a knee-high plant with a weird looking flower.

For a moment Corin thought it turned to look at him. A shiver raced down his spine, but when he looked again, the flower looked normal.

Alright, maybe the drugs had long-term aftereffects. Or he should have eaten more this morning. Might be hunger. Or thirst.

"I think we should go back," he murmured.

There was no reply from the medic, who silently walked off to wherever he was going, leaving Corin to stare at the plant and the leafy tangle. Had it been here before they had walked into the shop? He wasn't really sure.

The child warbled and trilled, sounding excited.

"Home," he told it. "We got what we came from, right?"

It cooed.

All the way back he felt being watched, as if he was being followed by sentient plant-life, and every scraggly bush or flower looked suspicious to him.

The child cooed, ending with a little squeak of delight, and he flinched as he discovered a massive vine wrapped around a bolder he had just passed. It was a dark green with thin purple stripes and some mossy growth here or there. Like patches of fur.

Corin was sure it hadn't been there just a second ago. He hurried up his pace, relief spreading through him as the farm came into sight. The Mandalorian wasn't there, but at least the building represented a measure of safety.

"You know what this is?" he asked the kid as he sat him on a chair.

It looked at him, ears twitching, attentive.

Corin glanced outside, but there was nothing suspicious there. Just the old farmland, overgrown with not-vines, teeming with grass, insects and the occasional lizard, and there wasn't a suspicious plant in sight.

"Okay, I'm imagining thing," he muttered.

Far out of his sight, a single muscular vine wound around what had been a low stone wall once. It was the far border of the farm land, falling apart from neglect and the elements, still more than halfway to the jungle that grew lush and wild in the distance.

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

The handful of people that lived outside the no-name village were both wary and accepting of the new-arrivals, the Mandalorian had found. He had slowly widened his circle of patrol and exploration, getting to know their immediate neighbors one after another. The farms were widely spread, but all within a day's walk at most from the settlement. None reached out toward the jungle and no one was stupid enough to try and claim more land from the indigenous flora.

The Mandalorian had assessed the situation with a professional eye, rarely staying longer than to nod a greeting. Mostly he had walked on, aware that he was under scrutiny.

Only one man lived a little closer to the jungle than the others. He was alone, clearly not a farmer, but he had some animals. The Mandalorian found out that they were meant as a mode of transportation.

"I've lived here all my life," the man told him as they sat on the back of the mammalian breed. They had clawed feet, sharp teeth, horns on their head the Mandalorian suspected could easily gut a man, but they were tame. Well, mostly. "Things change. The jungle grows and recedes. Lately, it grew. I can feel it being curious about you."

He regarded the massive, foreboding wall of green not far from them. It was the closest the man would take him.

"I patrol here. Along the edge. Every day. It is my calling."

"You were a soldier," the Mandalorian stated.

The man inclined his head. "A long time ago. When I came here, it was to accompany those idealistic enough to think they could conquer this world."

The Mandalorian was silent.

"More have passed through since. More have tried to enter, no one returned. I turned down fortunes offered to me as a guide." He snorted. "Nothing is worth going inside."

Resting his forearms on the broad saddle horn, the Mandalorian silently studied the dense jungle. Nothing moved. There were the sounds of animals, but he couldn't see any sign of life.

"I can tell you are interested," the man remarked.

"I'm not interested enough to follow in the tracks of fools."

"I didn't think you were. You want to know the territory."

He turned his head and looked at his companion. "It means survival."

"Out here, I wouldn't put up my hopes. All this," he gestured at the land not covered by the jungle forest, "it could be reclaimed. Nothing's stopping it. We wouldn't be able to clear trees or burn down the vegetation enough."

They rode back in silence, taking the well-trodden path that edged along the border deemed safe, though the Mandalorian doubted there was safety anywhere. Knowing his territory was vital for him, knowing the lay of the land. He was under no illusion that the child would be forgotten. Someone might trace them here and he wanted to be ready, just in case.

If he had to take the kid into the jungle to keep him safe, or to keep him from falling into the hands of the Client, he would do it. The Client didn't care whether or not it was delivered to him alive or not; it would probably stand a better change with this entity than anywhere else.

Pushing those dark thoughts aside, he guided his mount after the other man's.

*

"Do you think someone taught him how to use his powers? Before he was taken, I mean. From his parents... or guardians… Or is it something his species just knows how to do?"

"No one seems to know his species," the Mandalorian said, eyes on the child.

Corin shrugged. "Well, yeah. And that's kinda weird, seeing how powerful that little one is already. You'd think they would have been mentioned somewhere. That someone you met might have recognized it."

The Mandalorian was quiet.

"He's really fifty years old?"

"That's what I was told."

Corin looked thoughtful. "But he doesn't talk. He hasn't even tried to. Maybe he can't communicate like most species. He might not be able to form the Basic words. A lot of species have that problem."

The Mandalorian didn't comment, but he appeared just as thoughtful. "Possible," he finally rumbled.

"Force-sensitivity wasn't something I was ever really told about," Corin said quietly. "We heard rumors about stuff going down, but I was just… well… a foot soldier. The higher ups barely whispered a rumor in our presence. Too dangerous. And I never met any of the big wigs."

The other man turned his head a fraction, his attention shifting to Corin.

"You survived," the Mandalorian, voice intense.

Yes, he had. He hadn't been on the Death Star, either of them. He had never served on a warship. He hadn't been in one of the decisive battles. He had never met anyone of consequence. Corin had never been a soldier with the ambition to rise among the ranks, had simply kept his head down and tried to make it through to the end.

"And so will he."

Corin looked at where the child sat. The little guy was watching the buzz of several insects around him. He hadn't tried to eat any of the fauna recently, so that counted as a win.

"They won't ever stop chasing the kid," he heard himself whisper.

"No. They want it for something other than raising it into a warrior," the Mandalorian told him.

Corin frowned, meeting the visored gaze. "How would you know?"

"I heard them. They want to extract something."

He grimaced. That sounded like a messy medical procedure where no one expected the subject to survive. That explained why they didn't care whether he was dead or alive. That explained why all hunters came in shooting at the innocent creature, treating it carelessly.

_Over my dead body_ , he thought fiercely.

The child was his to protect. And he would do so to his last breath.

"We'll protect him," he said out loud.

The Mandalorian nodded. "We will."

When he walked past him, he briefly reached out and squeezed Corin's shoulder. It was a fleeting contact, brief, almost a caress, and Corin knew what it meant.

The warmth spreading through him was almost too much. His stomach did a little somersault.

The child looked at him, smiling, close to smug. It cooed.

And he had to laugh.

*

Corin woke ensconced in darkness. Warm, breathing darkness. It was… familiar, soothing, warm. And so, so intimate. His very soul seemed to relax into the strong sensation. A soft sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

Sharing the bed had become almost normal. Corin didn't mind sleeping in the absolute dark just to feel the other man with him, his touch, hearing him breathe, knowing Din Djarin could relax around him.

It was about nothing else.

Just… comfort; shared comfort.

The touches were still explorative, hesitant in a way that spoke of absolutely no experience in non-combative, non-lethal personal encounters. There was an openness to him coupled with a hesitant curiosity that always drove that point home. It left Corin stunned and more than slightly humbled.

He had had camaraderie with his fellow Troopers. There had been back-slapping, laughing, sharing stories, friendly scuffles, time off spent drinking and eating, everything comrades in arms simply did when they weren't on duty.

Mandalorians weren't like that. Corin had realized early on that physical contact was mostly battle, training, fighting, the like.

It explained a lot.

Especially how touch-starved the other man was.

Din had a fascination with the old scar on his stomach, deft fingers outlining the ragged edges, tracing it, caressing the disfigured skin with a reverence that shot little bolts of heat through Corin.

It was a reminder of his death that day, of CT-113's death. It was a reminder of Corin's new lease on life. His new purpose, his true identity. Not a nameless puppet anymore. It was his connection to the child, his place in their lives.

Corin didn't always wake to an empty bed and a removed blindfold either. Sometimes Din ran his hands over the other man’s back, his neck, sometimes pressed his lips close-mouthed against one temple before he got up.

Almost apologetic.

"You shouldn't have to do this," Din told him, voice low, slightly rough.

"Shouldn't? No one's forcing me," Corin replied, only too happy to explore the naked face with his hands.

Strong jaw. Slightly square. Hair short on the sides, a little longer on top. Stubble all over his lower face. Soft lips. That faint scar.

The kiss relayed a lot. A lot. More than any words. It was almost desperate, deeper, those lethal hands sliding over Corin's body as if to apologize, to make sure he was really okay, to reassure himself that he didn't suffer.

"I'm fine," he murmured when they parted. "You know it. I want this. With you."

He heard a hitched breath.

"With you and the kid," Corin said determinedly. "I care about you. I respect who and what you are. I respect your Creed. It's you. Din Djarin. Just you."

Din pulled him close and buried his face against the side of Corin's neck. Corin carded his fingers through the soft hair, lightly scratching over the other man's scalp. He stroked down to caress the hard tendons of Din's neck. He felt a tremor run through the hard-muscled form as he ran a hand over the naked back.

It was tender, loving… private. And incredibly intimate. And Corin liked it. He wanted this. The casualness, the way they expressed themselves within the privacy of their home. Din's whole presence was reassuring and warm. Simply _there_. It was a fact, like Din Djarin was an unmovable fact in his life.

There seemed to be a soft hum in the air, around them, warm and gentle. It was peaceful, like a safe cocoon of their own making.

When he finally moved, Corin was slightly startled out of a sleepy haze, feeling mellow and warm, his very soul at ease. He briefly mourned the loss of close contact.

Fingers ran along the edge of the blindfold.

"Close your eyes."

"I can take it off. Go dress," he said softly, deftly catching the hand that touched his temple.

He heard a little chuff of a laugh. "You are learning."

He grinned. Yep, he was. Being without one sense on a mostly regular basis had given him a new edge.

"Go dress. Look in on the kid. Who knows what he's up to while his guardian is busy."

Another caress. "Guardians. You are my equal."

Corin's grip on the wrist tightened briefly. Din leaned in close, his warmth clearly felt. The sensation that burst through him was hard to put into words.

"Equals," Corin echoed.

"Yes. Never doubt your strength. Never doubt your place."

With a last caress and a brush of lips against his temple, Din Djarin stepped away. Only when he heard the door close did Corin take off the blindfold, blinking into the light of dawn.

The stupid smile on his face didn't faze him at all.

*

He had no idea how long they had been on the planet already. More than just days. More than simple weeks. Corin had no way to tell time here, his body easily adjusting to a night-and-day rhythm, but he suspected this was the longest the Mandalorian had been anywhere in probably all his adult life.

Still, there was no urge in the man to leave. He didn’t appear to find this stationary existence bothersome. He wasn’t looking for a reason to pack up their things and take off to regions unknown.

It was peaceful in a way.

The farm house had become more than a temporary shelter. It had transformed into a home. It had a lived-in feel, with supplies in the stock rooms, and Corin had started to repair cabinets, walls and some of the meagre furniture to the best of his abilities. He had pulled old wires, replaced them, and had remodeled some of the equipment.

All with the help of his little green assistant. The child's attempt usually ended in pulled or crossed wires and spare parts being stuck into its mouth. Corin developed amazing reflexes in keeping the kid from accidentally eating something that was definitely not meant for consumption. Not to mention keeping the whole child out of tiny spaces where it wanted to explore.

"You are a menace," he told the toddler.

It got him a baby smile and baby noises, all excitement and mischievously tilted ears.

Corin grinned. He had fun, the child had fun; nothing exploded. Win-win situation, in his opinion.

He tried himself at helping the little guy with his abilities. Corin wasn't force-sensitive, was mostly winging it, but he figured it was like any other skill. You had to use it. You had to experience success and failure. You needed someone to help you, even if it was just cheering on your efforts or giving you a hug and cuddle.

Corin knew he was very good at cuddling the child, who never turned down a hug from him.

So they sat outside, on the porch or somewhere at the back of the house, Corin encouraging his charge to try and put pebbles from one place to the other. He knew the kid was immensely powerful, had lifted him already, could heal fatal injuries, but the finesse was what counted, not the raw firepower.

The kid was a heavy hitter for sure, but fine-tuning was what would give him better control. He compared it to weapons training. Anyone could point and shoot, but hitting the target where you intended to hit it was a different ball-game altogether.

The child was getting better, but it also easily lost interest in just stacking pebbles.

That Mandalorian sometimes joined them, leaning against the wall, watchful, an intense presence that Corin felt even when he wasn't looking. He simply knew he was there.

It was weird, but also something he attributed to instinct. Soldiers being aware of each other.

"You don't know what you are teaching," came the remark out of the blue.

Corin shrugged. "Kinda. But it's like any subject you need to learn. He needs to train, needs someone to patiently walk him through it all, and even if I have no clue how he does it, he does."

The Mandalorian slightly tilted his head. Corin knew there was a smile and probably an eye-roll.

"He is force-sensitive. You are not. Teaching a skill you never had or have any idea how to relate to is…"

"Useless?"

The other man seemed to tense a little, the presence growing more intense, more pronounced.

"You are never useless, Corin."

The child was by now picking up stones and inspecting them, no longer interested in finely tuned maneuvers.

"He's a child," Corin said softly. "He needs stimulants to grow, to discover his abilities. I know I can't be a teacher. Not like a Jedi could be for him."

There was a shift behind him, quite audible, the tension sky-rocketing. He looked over his shoulder, met the hard gaze.

"He's not a Jedi. He's a child with an amazing ability. It doesn't make him part of a religious group or a military unit. It's up to him to decide what he wants to be when he grows up. Knowing about right and wrong, that's what we can teach him."

The Mandalorian finally walked over to him and sat down on the edge of the porch, still tense, but close to Corin in a way that had the other man quite conscious of what it meant.

"He is not a Jedi," the bounty hunter confirmed. "They are not a species."

No, they weren't. Corin had had a lot of time to read and he had spent a lot of time reading up on Jedi and this whole force thing. He was none the wiser, but he knew he wouldn't let the kid be taken away by anyone, whoever they claimed to be.

The child made happy little baby noises as it watched an insect jump away as he tried to grab it. Corin dreaded seeing it end up in his mouth.

"No one knows his potential. Judging by who is after him, he has a lot. But they want him dead," the former Stormtrooper said quietly. "Not as a weapon. They want to use him for something and don't care whether they get him alive or dead."

His hands clenched into fists. He flinched when gloved fingers covered that fist, squeezing gently. He looked at the Mandalorian, then forced himself to relax.

"They won't get him," he vowed.

Corin nodded. No, they wouldn't.

The Mandalorian had turned their house into a fortress, reactivating invisible triggers at the edge of the land that belonged to the farm, making sure sensor were in peak order, and he had repaired the com device they had discovered in the basement.

Corin had accompanied him on the day-long walks, inspecting the ancient devices, determining what was needed to reactivate them. He always kept a look-out for any even remotely weird looking plant-life, but he couldn't spot a flower like he had seen in the village again. Once he thought he saw thick vines curled around a crumbled wall in the distance, but when they got there it was nothing.

Shadows. Play of the light.

The Mandalorian seemed unusually tense that day, clearly scanning for trouble, but none was to be found.

The child always came along. Either man carried it and they let him play or explore while they took care of the equipment.

"You made a map?" Corin remarked when the Mandalorian called up a holo-display.

"It's old. I got it from someone who lives at one of the homesteads in the area. He has been here for quite some time, patrolling the borders."

"You made a friend."

The teasing remark had the Mandalorian stop short, his whole body radiating confusion, then the lines eased into neutral acknowledgement.

Corin studied the clearly very sketchy map. It was mostly white, which meant the unexplored and off-limit jungle, with a few dots that showed the settlements or farms. It was really a lot of white. The known area was rather… tiny.

"We could do a fly-over," he suggested.

The head-tilt was clear enough. The helmet's expression never changed, but Corin could read it nevertheless.

Not a good idea.

"Aside from wasting fuel, nothing would be gained."

Yeah, probably.

Corin squinted into the distance. There was only the massive green wall. He forcefully turned away from the sight and picked up the child. The kid looked like it had doused itself in dust and Corin sighed. There was a quiet little sound from the Mandalorian and it sounded suspiciously like a barely hidden laugh.

He glared at the other man.

It got him a blank stare, then he walked off.

"Your dad…" he muttered as he settled the child in the carrier on his chest.

It cooed, looking mischievous and unconcerned in one.

Corin tugged at one ear, getting a giggle.

The child had been just as excited about the basement as it had been about anything in the house. It kept exploring the immediately vicinity, chasing insects and lizards, thankfully not trying to eat everything anymore. Corin loved to watch the little guy make new experiences.

He still took him along on runs. He sat on the side as the Mandalorian gave Corin a few pointers when it came to close combat without a blaster. And he was very vocal when the two men engaged in such close combat. Corin always, always!, lost, but he had never thought of himself as a match for the Mandalorian anyway. He counted himself lucky he got two blows in just before he ended up on his back or stomach yet again.

The bounty hunter was an amazing warrior and he could see where the legendary part came in.

"Your style of fighting is predictable."

He glowered and dusted himself off. From the porch came the warbling comment of their sole watcher. The child was holding a cup and the large eyes held curious interest.

"Imperial basic style," the Mandalorian stated; a simple fact.

"Yeah, well, I was more of a point and shoot grunt."

"You were trained in hand-to-hand combat."

"We all were."

He hadn't excelled there. He had been better at shooting stuff. Even long-range. Corin had never applied for a more specialized training. He hadn't wanted it. He hadn't aspired to be a sharp-shooter, a scout, maybe even one of the really prestigious positions. No, he had wanted to make a living and survive.

The Mandalorian studied him, the gaze intense and rather knowing, even behind the inscrutable visor.

They continued to train and Corin was really looking forward to a long, hot shower by the time the Mandalorian called it quits. He would be sore all over tomorrow.

The child was still watching them, looking pleased with himself and the world. A happy little kid, Corin mused, rolling his shoulders. Yeah, he would be so absolutely sore.

"Enjoyed the entertainment?" he teased.

It got him baby babble and he chuckled. The child got his feet and followed them into the house, cooing.

tbc...


	15. Chapter 15

He missed the snow. And the cold.

The planet had a moderate climate, not too hot and humid, never getting really cold, even at night. It rained, there was sun and wind, but no snow.

The maps the Mandalorian had been given showed little to no snow worth mentioning at the poles, and there were some images without any snow at all.

Corin refused to feel homesick for a cold, frozen wasteland of a planet, but he had applied to be a Snowtrooper for a reason. He liked the cold; he had actually thrived in it. Some of his comrades had been sent to the ice worlds as punishment for insubordination, for not meeting their goals, for failing one way or the other. Corin had wanted to be there, but he had never worked to rise in the ranks to command his own team, squad or even a base.

No, he had been happy as a simple soldier, and he had been more than happy in cold weather, be it a sunny day in the ice or in the middle of a snow storm. He had loved it all. Not a specific planet, just… the climate.

Lately, their stops had been all desert planets or barren land and scraggly vegetation. Sonsos was no different, with no cold and too much sun and rain. Corin couldn't really complain about it because it was actually a good climate for the child to be outside, to explore and learn.

So, no, he wasn't complaining. Not really. Just mentioning the unchanging weather now and then. How there were no dropping temperatures, no seasons. If he caught the Mandalorian giving him those looks, he ignored them.

The Mandalorian usually radiated a kind of teasing amusement when Corin muttered about just one day of cold, some snow, maybe just one freezing night. Corin couldn't argue with the benefits of the mild nights on Sonsos, mostly because it meant sleeping with a lot less clothes on and feeling more of the man who now shared his bed.

Yeah, that was… nice. Really nice.

He went along when the Mandalorian dropped by their closest neighbor the next time. The man, who introduced himself as Vhon – go figure that the Mandalorian had never asked him his name and he had never been told – showed him the animals he was breeding. Corin was fascinated by the large, dangerous looking mammals, though he wasn't ready to climb on one of them and ride.

He did, in the end. With the child in the sling making happy little noises as they followed their guide. The Mandalorian brought up the rear, rifle at the ready, just in case.

"You really never asked him his name?" he teased when they stopped hours later, on an overlook that gave the men a good look of the jungle below.

The Mandalorian gave him a very bland look. "It was not important."

Sure.

Corin grinned. The child sat in front of him, playing with the dark mane of his ride. Vhon had called them kyio. Corin suspected they weren't native to the planet, like nothing was really native to the world aside from the jungle.

A jungle that stretched out before him. Hours away from the farm house and still not far enough. They had ridden along the edge of it for all those hours and aside from going up and getting a better look, he hadn't seen a single break in the green wall.

The child cooed and held on tight to the long hairs, appearing fascinated by it.

The Mandalorian's kyio stretched its neck and the blunt, soft looking nose sniffed at the child. It cooed and petted the curious nose. The kyio snorted, which had the kid laugh.

They returned from their little trip just before sundown, the child already fast asleep and not rousing when Corin put it to bed.

It was by now routine to slip on the blindfold and he barely lost a thought about it. Their bodies aligned and Corin almost felt the hum of pleasure vibrating between them.

*

Corin froze as he saw the strange plant growing in the back yard of their small home. It hadn’t been there yesterday and it sure as hell hadn’t been there an hour ago! It looked like that vicious thing in one of the blurry images, with the animal-like jaws and the muscular stem. It was easily taller than him, the stem more like a tree trunk, and those serrated teeth weren't exactly helping with the growing horror inside him.

The child was only a few steps away from it, clearly curious, toddling toward the probably lethal flora.

And then it moved.

Something hot then cold flashed through him and Corin's adrenaline spiked, blood pressure rising, and he felt his muscles constrict in a fight-or-flight response.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

There was not a single thought about flight. It was fight only. Because his child was in danger and his brain switched from terror to one single-minded task: protect the child.

So Corin moved as well, already pulling out his blaster, only to be suddenly yanked back by one arm. His blaster clattered to the ground. A noise of pain escaped his lips and he twisted, trying to see what had kept him back.

His blood froze in his veins and a hot wave of fear washed over him.

There was a vine wrapped around his lower arm. A vine that had come out of the ground, with no apparent root to it, and it was holding him tightly. Actually, it looked just as muscular as the plant the child was so fascinated by.

Corin pried at the tight grip, only to have the vice-like hold harden, make him bite back a cry. He tugged helplessly; the thing didn't budge.

The knife… he had a knife…

And the child reached for the weird plant life-form.

“No!” he exclaimed.

The plant twisted sharply, just as the vine around his arm tightened again to a painful level that nearly brought him to his knees. He thought he heard his freshly healed bones creak.

“Oh please no…”

The plant leaned down, like a curious creature looking at something interesting. The child’s hands were on the muzzle-like growth that was now within its reach. It cooed, completely fixated on the thing, and the plant seemed to duck to be more on eye-level. Small, green hands caressed the thing.

Corin felt nameless terror course through him. The pain in his arm was forgotten, his whole goal just to get the child away from this thing. He closed trembling fingers around the knife.

There was a hiss, like a warning, and he froze. His breath caught as he realized that a second tentacle-like vine was next to his head, looking razor-sharp, adorned with hooked thorns, and one was at eye-level. Out of the tip formed a bulbous mouth, filled with needle-sharp fangs. At the side, a second limb grew, the spike at the end stopping just shy of his throat, the warning clear.

His fingers fell away from his only weapon.

The ground near the child broke open and a new, smaller vine twisted up. The child gurgled cheerfully,

It grabbed the tendril.

Corin groaned. “Please don’t hurt him!” he whispered even as the razor-sharp tip touched his throat. “Please… He's a kid. He's playing. Please, I beg you…”

If this was an extension of the jungle, if it really was sentient, he hoped it understood the innocence of the child. Even if it didn't understand Basic or any other language, it might sense the intent, the emotions.

The tendril around his arm crawled higher and he shivered in fear. The other one at his throat never moved.

“He can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you. I never would. Please,” he continued imploringly. “I don’t know if you understand, but we will leave if you don’t want us here any longer, okay?”

The child’s fingers closed around the vine and its eyes were on the lethal plant. It had a seriously contemplative look, appearing suddenly older, like it understood, like this wasn't just a game. Those huge eyes held a serene expression, almost tranquil. The plant swayed, then cracked open those massive jaws.

“No!” Corin cried, frightened. “No! Don’t! Please!”

He tried to step forward but was yanked back with such force, he fell to his knees. His arm screamed in pain, but all he could see through watery eyes was the child.

His child.

The pressure behind his forehead rose.

_Protect the child!_

It looked at the plant. Its expression was strangely earnest, like talking to the weird flora, the ears moving up and down like tiny radar dishes.

Corin tried to grab the knife again, desperation blanking out all logic, but his free arm was yanked back, together with the already mistreated limb, making his shoulder scream, making him cry out, as his arms were tightly secured behind his bowed back.

“He’s just a child,” Corin tried, heaving for air. “Please…”

The child suddenly mewled, sounding distressed, and Corin's protective instinct screeched, had him try to move in the vice-like hold. To no avail. He wanted to screw his eyes shut, but he couldn't. He just stared at his little charge, willed the child to… to… be whole. Nothing else mattered.

The ground beneath him seemed to shift and he groaned.

This was it.

It was over.

He had failed.

The child mewled again and he knew something inside his very soul was breaking at the distress and despair he heard in the noises.

_Failure_ , the old voice that had been silent for so long hissed. _Disgusting failure! Once more you prove that you're not worth the time and effort!_

The child warbled, sounding like it was talking to the plant, scolding it. It curled both hands tightly around the vine, holding it like it held his food.

_Oh please don’t let him try to eat it!_ shot through Corin’s head.

It was such an abstract thought, he knew he was close to hysterical.

But the child didn’t eat it, or try to put it into his mouth. It stared at the fanged plant as it held onto the vine, forehead wrinkled in such a deep scowl, it was almost comical. Then he suddenly let go of the tendril and toddled over to the former Stormtrooper, those large eyes still more serious than ever, bottomless and calm. It looked at the thick, muscular bindings wrapped over Corin's arms up to his shoulders, numbing the limbs, threatening and more harmful than anything ever thrown at the former Stormtrooper. He could feel the whisper of the sharp blade against his throat, felt the minute movements of the living bindings, and still all he could think of was the child. His safety. His life.

The child made unhappy noises, almost like a complaint. Corin fought to stay still, not to make this so much worse than it already was, hoping against hope.

There were rustling noises coming from the plant; and not just the single one. It was everywhere, like sharp whispers, like a whole world turning its attention on this small, unassuming green baby. And on the man kneeling on the ground. Corin almost gasped. It felt like a weight on his mind, a powerful, singular weight that paid attention to him, only him, assessing him.

The child's eyes narrowed and for a second Corin saw displeasure in the small face. It was so strange to see that expression, something he had never seen before, despite how many times he had scolded the kid, had told him what was good and bad to do, what was right and wrong. He had never been looked at like that.

_Don't do something stupid_ , he begged silently. _I'm not important. You are. Don't antagonize this thing! Please be safe!_

Then the child reached for the vines.

Corin made a distressed sound.

And he was suddenly free. His recently injured arm ached abominable, but he was free. Scooping the kid up, ignoring the sharp signals of abuse, he held him close, body protectively curled around the smaller form, eyes seeking out the weird plant. He was under no illusion that he could actually protect them, but he would do it anyway. A useless gesture, but instinctual.

“You’re okay,” he murmured. "Thank the powers you're okay."

It cooed, making soft noises, almost quizzical, small hands curling into his shirt.

"I'm good, kiddo," he whispered.

A tiny part laughed hysterically in his brain. He wasn't. He really wasn't. He was shaken to the core, his arms ached, and he felt like one wrong move could get him into a whole lot of trouble with nothing less than the whole planet!

Next to him, the vine was gone. Only slightly disturbed ground remained. The plant and with it the second tendril of whatever it was, was still there.

There were almost silent steps behind him, heavy boots against soft earth. The Mandalorian stopped next to where Corin was kneeling. He was holding his rifle in one hand, the blaster in the other, fingers clenched so tightly around his weapons, the leather of the glove stretched snugly over the knuckles. The tension he radiated was almost palpable. Corin saw it in every line of his body and he heard it in his breaths.

The plant was watching them. Assessing.

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, don't kill me! :)


	16. Chapter 16

“What is this?” the former Stormtrooper asked shakily, fighting the tremors racing through him. "What's going on?"

The child cooed.

“A first contact.” The words were rough, like he was biting into ground glass, as if it was painful to talk.

“W-what?”

“The child. It is curious about the child.” It sounded almost like a growl.

Corin looked at the small being in his arms, who was still watching the plant and who seemed to be absolutely fascinated by it. There was no fear in its eyes, just curiosity. The misgiving expression had disappeared.

“Because… of what he is?”

“Possible." The Mandalorian sighed, sounding almost resigned, but also still looking very ill at ease.

Corin finally struggled slowly and unsteadily to his feet, still warily eyeing the plant. It moved as if watching him closely. His arm throbbed. The child wriggled a little, cooing.

“It… wants the child?” he asked, renewed fear in his voice, but there was a core of steel, an anger, that rose at the idea of anyone or anything taking his kid.

He wouldn't surrender the child to anyone. Even a whole planet.

The Mandalorian made a sound that was almost a growl. “No. I believe it's curiosity. Interest. The child is the reason we are tolerated. Accepted.”

Because of the whole Force thing? Something only the child possessed and no one could really train with him? Corin shuddered. He knew he hadn't been imagining things, vines and plants growing and disappearing again. The entity had stalked them, had come closer and closer.

“Now what?” he asked in a low voice.

Adrenaline was still racing through him. The fight-or-flight reflex was urging him to do one or the other, alternating between both options, but Corin knew both would end in pain. Both options only led to disaster.

“Now we know just how sentient the entity living here is.”

_A planet!_ something inside Corin screamed. They were nothing compared to this. “And?”

It got him that wry look, relayed through a helmet and a visor and still so clear. “And we stay as long as we are allowed to.”

The child cheerfully called out and bright eyes looked at Corin. They would be allowed to stay, he realized. Because of this little green being.

They would stay.

Part of him yearned to have a place where he didn’t have to look over his shoulder all the time, a safe haven. A refuge.

Now that refuge came with a planet-sized life-form that was absolutely lethal, downright vicious, a lot more sentient than anyone had ever guessed, and it as interested in the kid.

“What about…” He nodded at the plant, which seemed to watch them in turn.

It really moved its head-like growth like an animal eyeing possible predators and prey.

The Mandalorian shrugged, but he looked more tense than the casual gesture suggested. “We’ll know when our time has run out. This was a first contact. We were assessed and tested." The visored gaze briefly met Corin's and he could just imagine the clenched jaw, the tight lines around the other man's eyes, the way a muscle in his cheek jumped. "It's nothing anyone who came here has managed to achieve. It could have been worse.”

Yeah. They could have ended up dead. Like anyone else who had ever tried to go into the jungle, find the creature, talk to it, or whatever.

_Because it's not in the jungle_ , a voice whispered sharply in his mind. _It's literally everywhere!_

The child gurgled and wriggled again. Corin glanced at the bounty hunter, who gave a tiny nod. So he set the child down. It crowed in delight, but it didn’t approach the plant again. The small fingers curled into the fabric of Corin's pants and he looked up, burbling quizzically.

Something wormed out of the ground, thin and almost wispy. Corin froze, felt his stomach constrict. A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him, and he looked at the Mandalorian who gave a minute head-shake. Through their contact he could feel the tension radiating off the other man. The armor hid a lot, but Corin knew him, had been allowed as close as no other living being ever had, aside from the child, and he knew the Mandalorian was a breath away from doing something violent and possibly fatal.

The child chirped and let the vine curl around his little fingers. The other hand was still tightly clenched into Corin's pant leg.

For a moment Corin felt like the whole planet seemed to shift and settle, a hum around them that wasn't really audible. It actually by-passed his ears and just echoed through his mind. He felt like his blood pressure had suddenly dropped, dizzy and detached, like part of him was tearing away, and then there was nothing anymore.

“This is giving me the creeps,” he whispered, breathing harder. "A lot. A whole lot."

The thing had to be empathic. He had never met a species who was, thankfully. He knew there were those who only communicated that way. Some species had to touch, others were simply receptive to emotions. This thing…? A completely different, insanely complex matter.

He exhaled, trying to calm himself.

The Mandalorian was a silent statue, but he had felt it, too. Corin heard his sharp breaths, could see it in the rise and fall of his chest. He didn't let go of Corin's arm either. There was a shift of muscles, showing the strain the man was under to not intervene, to not give in to protective instincts screaming at him to shoot the vine and keep his child safe.

The tendril of whatever it was that lived on or in this planet retracted. Corin looked toward the plant. It was… gone. Yes, he was creeped out. Completely.

The child gave him a smile, clearly absolutely okay with what had happened. It cooed and he picked it up with a faint smile.

“Let me check your arm,” the Mandalorian rumbled.

"It's okay," Corin blurted automatically. "Just bruised."

The look he was given had him swallow and briefly drop his eyes. Damn his still so ingrained automatic responses!

"It's not okay."

"I…"

"Corin."

He nodded. He understood, he knew, but years of training were hard to ignore, even now.

The Mandalorian headed back into the house.

Corin followed, numb and hyper-sensitive in one. Everything around them was as before. Nothing had changed.

How often had those things been around without anyone noticing? What was it? One organism? Several? His head was spinning.

“Are we really still safe?” he asked quietly as the Mandalorian had him sit down and strip off the shirt to reveal his mistreated arm. The child was next to him, watching everything with quiet interest and just a little frown of worry.

“Yes.”

Gloved hands palpated the newly bruised limb and he bit back a hiss of pain at a particularly sensitive spot. The Mandalorian looked at him, the blank mask giving nothing away, but Corin knew there was an apologetic look on his face. He just knew.

“We would be dead if not.”

That confirmed his earlier thoughts. “How… comforting.”

There was a tiny, barely audible snort of amusement.

His arm was turned, gently and without much pressure, and those gloved finger brushed over the soft underside. Corin shivered. The Mandalorian caressed the inside of his wrist with one finger, mirroring a gesture from long ago. Corin briefly closed his eyes, feeling a rush.

The intimacy was incredible.

The closeness was overpowering.

"Nothing is broken," the Mandalorian stated in a low voice, the rough edge making Corin yearn for more.

A small green head leaned in with a warbling coo, large ears fanned out, one brushing against his skin. Corin smiled, the tension inside him unravelling just a little, and playfully tugged at one ear with his free hand. The child looked too serious, too worried, and he gave him a reassuring smile. The Mandalorian still held his other arm, still ran a finger over the sensitive skin. It was a reassuring touch and very grounding.

“So you’re best buds with a sentient planet now?” Corin asked lightly.

The child gave him a solemn look and burbled. Small fingers held on to Corin's other arm, those blunt claws digging in just slightly. It made a few noises, as if trying to tell him something.

“Cool. And the planet knows we're on your side, right? Your guardians.”

The child met his eyes sagely. It trilled almost apologetically, petting his arm.

"Yeah, well, maybe it was my fault, kiddo. I was worried. I didn't really think, just reacted. Stupid of me."

_Idiot! Running into a situation without thinking!_ the voice hissed mercilessly. _You're still the same worthless garbage you were before! Useless!_

He ignored it. He wasn't useless. He was this child's guardian. He was his protector! He would always be the protector, to his dying moment!

There was a soft warble.

"It's a freaking big plant and I didn't know what it would do," Corin said out loud, feeling he had to explain his actions. "I couldn't let it hurt you."

The large eyes were suddenly like bottomless wells and he felt something caress him, envelop his mind, was aware of so much and so little in turn. The grip on his wrist tightened reflexively, the Mandalorian inhaling sharply, then it was gone.

"What the…" Corin whispered.

The child burbled, ears twitching.

"You really are something…"

The Mandalorian finally released the arm and Corin cradled it close to his body. It felt bruised. At the quiet mewing, he scooped up the child as he rose a little unsteadily from the chair.

He looked at the Mandalorian, who stared at the two of them so hard, Corin wondered if he would have holes from that stare. The child seemed oblivious to the tension, eyes suddenly drooping as if it had exhausted itself.

"You need rest," the bounty hunter stated, voice a little shaky.

He nodded, quite aware that he was standing in his undershirt in front of a fully armored man who he knew was just as human and vulnerable underneath as he was. A man who was warm and soft, physically as well as emotionally.

“We need rest. All of us. The kid is already nodding off."

The Mandalorian slowly reached out to cup his neck, then rested his helmet against Corin's forehead. Corin closed his eyes and almost groaned when an arm curled around his waist, pulling him close; minding the dozing child Corin still held.

The lethal tension seemed to flow out of the Mandalorian and Corin heard a soft, tremulous sigh. He had been just as terrified, he realized. Terrified to lose the child and Corin, unable to fight against something that would tear him apart in seconds, without ever getting a shot off.

He had been scared.

It was a concept that didn't want to compute with Corin, but it was something he understood. The Mandalorian wasn't the cold, hard, emotionless hunter everyone whispered about. He was gentle and warm; he cared. He cared a lot about the child and Corin had slowly let the thought that he cared about him just as much settle in his mind.

"You didn't shoot it," he said after a long moment of quiet.

There was a sharp exhalation. Fingers curled possessively. "The odds were not in my favor."

He nodded. "It might have hurt the child."

"And you. It was already hurting you."

And yes, there was a wobble in that voice. Emotions breaking through. Corin felt a pull, a yearning, wanted to brush away the worry and pain. He could only imagine what the Mandalorian had had to go through, seeing his child touching the viciously dangerous plant. And Corin had been unable to act in any way. He had been overwhelmed, incapacitated… had failed.

"I'm okay."

The embrace tightened. "You're not."

"I'm okay," he repeated.

The child had buried its head against Corin's side, clearly falling asleep on the spot now that the tension was lessening. Time to get him to bed.

Placing the little one into his nest of blankets barely drew more than a mumble. He fondly watched the baby move, curl deeper into the blankets, then he walked into the bedroom. The Mandalorian followed, a silent, tense shadow.

Corin still felt too shaky from today’s encounter, his mind whirling with the fact that sentient plant-life had chosen to make contact with their child, and the child had apparently made contact with this unknown creature.

The terror of it all had started to abate, his mind too used and too well trained to give in to it. A soldier didn't fall to terror. He analyzed, he categorized, and he used mental drawers to shut out emotions that were nothing but a hindrance.

It was just… unbalancing.

The Mandalorian closed the distance. Strong fingers caressed his neck, made him shiver and yearn for something he hadn't known he needed until now. It was a longing, a slow curl of something both powerful and delicate.

Corin curled a light grasp around the strong wrist, holding on to the one steady anchor in this emotional sea.

“We are safe,” the Mandalorian repeated. "Absolutely safe."

“Are we?”

“Yes.” It was full conviction, without doubt, and he let it seep into his mind. "And you didn't fail. Never doubt that."

How did he…?

Corin screwed his eyes shut, lips becoming a thin line, and the tension of old crept back.

They were safe, he repeated in his head. He hadn't failed.

Safe. This was safety. In the whole wide galaxy where bounty hunters and some Imperial scum were chasing a small child, where they had looked over their shoulders and had always had to run, this was safety.

Even if tentacled plants crawled out of the ground. Probably carnivorous plants with animalistic jaws. Lethal, sentient plants that were making friends with their kid.

"Corin."

The low whisper drew him out of his thoughts.

"I know I couldn't have done more," he answered, swallowing. "I just…"

"You never failed him." The fingers massaged his neck. "Not here, not before. The planet is everywhere. We wouldn't have survived the encounter if it had meant the child harm."

"So it's always watching us now?" And wasn't that even more freaky…

"I believe it's aware of the child and through it of us, the guardians. It has been since our arrival."

Corin shivered. The strong hand around his neck squeezed gently.

"I had the shot, but I couldn't take it."

He swallowed.

"I felt it. Like a heavy weight," Corin whispered. "It was everywhere…"

"Yes. It is everywhere. It made contact, it tested us, we passed. You did not fail. You could never fail."

The conviction was like a living, breathing thing, drawing them closer, the yearning so strong and real, Corin almost groaned. He briefly touched his forehead against the cool metal, grounding himself.

tbc,,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, nope, it's not the last encounter with the entity. :) Something will hit the fan pretty soon. And very hard...
> 
> And yes, I had to make another cut. So much more being written at the moment.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you started 2020 in style :) 
> 
> Here's something that had been a long time coming for our favorite men (and their little green bean), and I'm still not done with their story yet. Yikes! All I wanted was to write Corin h/c and it has become this... Lots more to come! Lots more!
> 
> Big chunk today because I didn't want to split it all up again.

He didn’t really mind stripping off the outer layer of clothes and his boots in front of an audience. Soldiers knew no shame in that regard. He would have stripped completely, too, without second thought.

The Mandalorian was watching, silently, like a sentinel, but Corin was very much aware of those sharp eyes tracking his every move. He felt the tension radiating from the other man, the strain showing in so many, many ways. There was a longing emanating from him, a longing that was echoed by Corin.

He finally sat down on the mattress, feeling exhausted and energized in one. The events had left him emotionally wiped out, but his mind was still too alive, too much turning things over and over. And his body was tightly strung, his muscle seemingly vibrating with unreleased energy.

"Corin…"

He immediately shook his head. "Please… Just… Can we just…"

The Mandalorian caught his slightly flailing hands and he stilled. Corin expelled a breath, still shaking. He just wanted to have the other man next to him, closer, as close as possible, and he wanted… to feel…

The blindfold was taken from his shaking fingers and he centered himself. Corin closed his eyes, plunging his world into darkness.

He felt gentle fingers caress his temple, running over his hair, and he relaxed more.

It was Din Djarin who curled up close, all armor removed. Warm, slightly chapped lips pressed a kiss against Corin’s neck as they did each time. He felt as hard muscles in the lean form loosened, was acutely aware of the possessive grip around his waist. A hand slipped under the shirt and rested over the jagged scar that had remained of his near-fatal gut shot.

Corin felt the mild tremors run through the other man, felt him destress, felt him reassure himself that Corin was there, alive and warm, breathing and whole. It was a mirror of his own emotions, of the pent-up energy that still surged through him.

He finally placed his own hand over the caressing touch, interlaced their fingers, and Din sighed, sounding relieved somehow. He pressed himself closer.

They breathed in sync, a new kind of tension rising between the two men. Corin felt a hunger deep in his gut, churning through him, hot and wanting. Maybe it was the adrenaline still in his system, mixing in with the fear and terror that still echoed through him. The fear of loss, of never being able to have this again. To leave this world without having all the time he wanted with this incredible man.

Maybe it was Corin being an idiot. Assuming things. Wanting more than he already had been given. So much more.

Maybe it was everything together.

He bit his lower lip, hard, fighting down the burn, the desire, the need to have to so much more because it could be taken from him any day.

Din gently mouthed against his neck, teeth suddenly scraping over the sensitive flesh. He shivered, mind whirling with what he felt, what he wanted, what this could mean, and whether or not it meant something different to a Mandalorian.

Finally he turned in the possessive embrace that loosened as he shifted. He felt the other man's breath against his skin as they lay facing each other, Corin absolutely blind to the true face of the Mandalorian.

He didn’t care. He would never care.

His fingers explored that unseen face, traced Din's lips, his jaw. There was a faint scar, old and barely perceptible, but his sensitive fingers found it, ran along its path. He had traced it do often before. He had a mental image of the face he could only see by touch. He had no idea if that was what Din Djarin looked like, especially since had no idea about hair or eye color, but in Corin's mind his face was there.

It finally registered that the other man wasn't wearing a shirt.

Naked planes of skin, all open for his explorative touch, and it sent a bolt of heat through him that had Corin bite back a whimper. Din didn't stop him as he brushed flat palms over the hot skin, as he explored the defined muscles, as he skipped over more old scars.

The kiss, when it finally came, was almost tentative, quizzical, as if Din wasn’t sure how it would be received. It was soft, more like a first foray into a whole new world.

It was so easy to open up, to fall back on what he knew, on what they had both become really, really good at, and to feel the familiar wave of content and calm.

Mixed with the trickles of hunger. And lust. He couldn’t deny that anymore.

They were on the same page, Corin thought faintly, the excitement racing through him making him grow bolder. He easily went as he was pushed onto his back, showing that he was quite okay with letting him lead. With everything…

The next kiss was more. Corin almost lost it as teeth briefly caught on his lower lip, the sensation having him want so much more. When Din pushed up his shirt, he eagerly stripped it over his head.

The mouth that kissed his chest nearly had him cry out. It was such a sudden sensation, so unexpected, and his inability to see, just hear and feel, amplified each new touch.

"Corin…"

"Don't stop," he managed. "Don't!"

And he didn't. At all.

Corin's hands ran up the hard-muscled form as Din mouthed his way down Corin's chest. He carded his fingers into wavy hair and groaned at the rising need, the excitement, the raw power this man exuded without doing more than just… touch or kiss his skin. His fingers clenched and he exhaled sharply, a whine leaving his lips, when that mouth hit a sensitive spot.

"Please…"

"How's the pain?" Din murmured, broad palms fanning over his stomach, fingers brushing over defined muscle.

Corin gave a breathy laugh. "You're asking that now?!"

"Have to make sure. So?"

"I'm fine."

The caresses were calming and teasing in one. Making him crazy and still turning him into a puddle of goo.

Something primal inside him wanted to bridge that last gap, cross that bridge, had him want to do things...

"…Corin?"

The voice was low, inquisitive, testing the waters.

" _Elek gedet'ye_ – Yes, please."

There was a sharp intake of breath, then the next kiss grew harder, more possessive, a release of pent-up desire and unvoiced emotions.

He felt the sudden twist of building pleasure, his own reaction to the tension that was building in anticipation of his next step, and when Din pushed a leg between his thighs, he almost lost it.

For the first time, Din Djarin let himself go, let himself experience something he had denied himself for so long, and it was wonderful. It was Corin. Pure Corin.

He didn't think, simply followed instinct, let himself be guided by the other man's encouraging noises.

It freed him as he gave in to the need, easy and almost calm in the eye of his emotional storm.

*

Looking at the man next to him in bed, Din Djarin knew he would never get enough of watching Corin. Touching him. Exploring their relationship, their partnership, everything they were. He had never allowed himself such closeness and to have it now, with this person, was amazing.

And very, very humbling.

Last night had been a new, first step in what they were, and he had eagerly followed each encouragement, each whispered plea, the pleasure it brought skyrocketing with the completion.

He brushed his hand over the dark, tousled strands, delighting in their feel. Corin had turned half onto his stomach, one arm flung out and hanging over the side of the bed. He was absolutely naked, just like him, on full display with the blanket only partially hiding the lean body. Din had explored it all, had committed spots that drew small groans or breathless whimpers to memory to be further exploited at a later date.

He still felt the remnants of fear at the sight of Corin held in the plant's grasp, clearly in pain, terrified not for his own life but that of the child, and the child's innocent encounter with the entity that made up this world.

Din had known there was not a single thing he could do. Nothing at all. Every twitch of aggression would have met with lethal force. He wouldn't have been fast enough to get a shot off, to draw his knife, to use the flamethrower. The entity was everywhere and it had effectively incapacitated Corin and through it, the Mandalorian.

He touched a dark bruise that had blossomed on Corin's upper arm. One of many mottling both arms, though the right arm looked worse, showing just how tightly the vines had held on. No blood had been spilled, but the wounds were there.

Din ran a feather-light caress over the smooth naked skin of the man's back, smiling dimly. His eyes were drawn to the blindfold still snug around Corin's head. There was a burst of warmth spreading through his body. It happened each time the other man put the blindfold around his head, again and again placing his trust in the Mandalorian. Making himself vulnerable and displaying an incredible strength in turn.

Corin was so much stronger than he believed it himself. That core of steel was what had attracted Din Djarin to this man. It was hidden under layers of old indoctrinations, of Imperial training, of his ow conviction that he was worth no more than the ancient armor he had worn. It had taken Din patience and a lot of pain and blood to chip away at that belief and make Corin see who he really was.

Who the child had early on known he was.

With the child, this man wouldn't be here today. The Mandalorian wouldn't be here today.

They were safe here, he knew. Despite what had happened, despite the horror that lurked just underneath the surface, despite the fear and yesterday's events, they were safe.

He traced faint, white scarring along one shoulder blade. He had done it dozens of times before, remembered the times when Corin was awake throughout the aimless caresses, making soft, appreciative noises. Din followed the curve of the ribs to the spine, then down toward the partially covered hips.

There was a gurgling coo and Din had to smile as a small, green head peeked around the partially open bedroom door, large ears fanned out. The child burbled and chirped, meeting the uncovered eyes with an innocent look. Then it smiled, looking absolutely happy and pleased, cooing again. The expression could be almost called approval.

"Breakfast," he whispered, biting back a laugh.

There was an answering chirp.

He silently got up, careful not to disturb the sleeping man. He dressed swiftly and effectively, then removed the blindfold with practiced ease.

Corin barely stirred.

The burst of affection and need had Din almost freeze, the strength overwhelming. He inhaled sharply, fighting down that gooey mess of longing, of love, of everything Corin had kicked lose inside him with his so profound gesture of trust. With one last, lingering look, Din Djarin finally put the helmet back on, walking out into the house to find the child and himself something to eat.

Corin woke alone, but he didn’t mind at all. It didn’t feel like he had been abandoned or pushed aside, as if Din had fled the bed after realizing what had happened. No, it wasn't that. Corin knew that last night had meant infinitely more to the man than he might ever be able to voice. It had meant a lot to him, too.

He felt the heat rise in his face and fought down a very physical reaction to the memories. Very passionate, intense and hot memories. Just laying together in the heat of the afterglow had been amazing, hearing Din's slightly harsher breathing, feeling his hand between the two bodies still slowly pumping them, making him whimper with each sensation.

Damn.

This had been a new frontier for both of them in many ways, and they hadn't explored it all yet. Not at all. This had been amazing and hot. Corin had almost lost it at the slick sensation, of feeling everything that was Din Djarin, realizing that yes, this was real.

The blindfold was off again, carefully folded and placed on the pillow.

Stretching, he felt sore muscles protest, reminding him of not just last night, but the horror of before. He had bruises from where the vines had held him and the fear of losing the child was still vivid and real. But something else, more powerful, pushed it all back. He smiled as good memories filtered through, intimate touches, soft whispers, the pleasure voiced by both men. The terrifying encounter with the living planet paled in comparison of what he had felt and still did feel from being with Din. No one would believe him should he ever reveal how gentle and intense their encounter had been.

Not that he would. This was incredibly private and no one's business.

He wanted it to happen again. Regularly. He wanted to feel that strength, that touch, that unguarded desire, and he wanted to return it all, explore what it meant, find out where this could still lead.

He loved him; this man, Din Djarin, the Mandalorian. He really loved all of him, no matter the name, the former Stormtrooper mused, mind turning over the word in an almost lazy way. Love. He had loved him for a while now.

It should be frightening. It should make him a nervous wreck. Right now it simply felt right, even if he wasn't comfortable saying it out loud.

The child was already on its booster seat, munching on breakfast. It gave Corin a happy smile, those eyes filled with an almost mischievous light. It burbled.

Knowing what the kid could do, that it most likely felt so much more through this mysterious force-thing, and that it had communicated with a whole planet-sized life-form without words, Corin wondered how much it had felt. It had probably been aware of what was burning between them a lot longer than the two men involved.

He almost laughed.

The Mandalorian was browsing through something on the data pad. Full armor, impenetrable helmet. He raised his head from whatever he was reading.

Corin felt something hot shoot through him, a memory of last night, and it mellowed into something gooey and so not them and still them. Last night had been no more than a next step, clothes discarded, touches first carefully exploring, then more daring, firm, bringing such pleasure, briefly wiping away the horror of before.

"Morning," he managed.

"Good morning."

He had never been more aware of the other man than now. Something profound had happened, something irreversible that was more than just the physical connection they had shared. They had taken a small step that had been in the making since first sharing close quarters, but Corin knew it hadn't been taken lightly. The Mandalorian wasn't someone to indulge in casual encounters, in meaningless relief. This had been trust coupled with something almost soul-deep.

The baby warbled, waving his small hands at Corin in a greeting. There was food all over his lips and fingers.

“Geez, kid,” Corin laughed and shook his head. “There’s more food on you than in you from the looks of it.”

It cooed cheerfully.

“I’d say you’re coming after your dad, but…” He trailed off, teasing smile directed at the Mandalorian.

It got him a barely perceptible snort.

Corin smiled as he took a cup of hot brew that tasted bitter but really woke one up. He grabbed a damp cloth and wiped off the child’s fingers and face.

“Little menace,” he whispered lovingly.

The Mandalorian chuckled as he watched Corin clean off the child, then set it down to toddle off. The bright smile, those deeply blue eyes… the confidence and happiness the man radiated. It was everything that had always been there, but it had never been out in the open.

Last night had been a first in so many ways, but it had also been the sealing of a bond between them. He had wanted it for too long and it still was so different from what he had imagined.

He rose and walked over to him, gazing into those clear eyes.

Neither man said anything.

The Mandalorian still felt the intense connection between them even now, the way they were both in tune, at ease, no tension between them anymore. He had rarely given in to the need for physical contact in the past, had never trusted anyone enough to spend the night in bed together. The rare encounter or two to release tension and pent-up frustration had been quick and had never involved more than quick hands.

Corin had broken down so many walls, was responsible for so many firsts.

The air between them was easy, calm, absolutely mellow. There was no question about what had happened. He knew they had enjoyed each other; a lot. The small hum between them was still there, reflecting a bond formed in so many ways.

The child's eyes tracked them, turning his head from one to the other, looking very happy and pleased. It pushed food into its mouth, gurgling.

"So what are the plans now?" Corin asked softly.

"Plans?"

"Yeah, plans. After meeting the neighbors, so to speak. Do you want to stay? Are we leaving again? I know it would break his little heart to pack up and go back hopping from one possibly dangerous planet to the next. But staying here… It's not exactly your kind of life style."

The visored gaze was met by calm, eyes. Assured, self-confident eyes. Corin's whole stance reflected his change, his growth, and the strength that had always been there and had now finally broken free. This was the warrior hidden underneath the self-doubt, the nervousness, the belief he was inadequate.

"You're a bounty hunter," Corin added as if to drive that fact home.

They were standing close together, barely a breath between them.

"It is a job. Nothing more. It's a way to make a living, to survive. To provide for the Covert. It never defined me. I betrayed the Guild. I'm no longer part of them."

"So you really want to stay?"

The question echoed in his mind, but he didn't really need to think about the answer.

"Yes."

"For the child."

He nodded. "For him. And you."

Corin froze, eyes widening. His mouth opened and shut again, no sound coming out. The Mandalorian placed a hand flat on Corin's chest, a chest that had been naked under his touch mere hours ago. Warm skin, hard muscle, a hint of perspiration, and the thunder of a heart. Right now that heart was thrumming again.

" _Ner aliit._ "

There. He had said it. He had said it out loud.

Corin looked stunned, eyes wide. The Mandalorian knew he understood the word, had learned it early on. He was still only moderately fluent in basic Mando'a, but he was determined to learn and made progress every day.

_Ner aliit_. His family. His clan. So very personal and private. Not recognized by the tribe, but the Mandalorian would never deny that this was exactly what they were.

And more. So much more. Something only between them. He let his other hand rest possessively on the slender hip, curling his fingers slightly. He wanted to say the word, but couldn't. Not yet. Too soon.

They were both quite aware of the intensity between them, the bond that connected not only the two men but also the child to them. It was like a living thing, woven between them, bringing all three together.

Something in those bright blue eyes answered him, said words the Mandalorian hadn't been able to express either. A lot still remained unsaid between them, even if they both felt the intensity of their relationship.

_I need you_ , he thought. _You are important to me in ways I've never thought of before._

"You belong," he said out loud, voice low and intense. " _Ner aliit_. If you accept."

He had to ask, give Corin the choice. This wasn't his life; he wasn't Mandalorian. He had already given so much, no strings attached, hadn't left his side so far. He had powered through everything that had been thrown his way. He had been shot, beaten, drugged, and more. He had endured it all, had more than once been ready to give his life for them. Not to mention that he had been confronted by a sentient life-form the size of a planet that was clearly interested in the latest new-arrivals.

And he had given the Mandalorian something else; something incredible, something intimate, something soul-deep.

Corin's eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up. "You're not really asking that question right now, are you?" he blurted. "Are you seriously asking that question?! Whether or not I'd accept you as clan? As family?"

The Mandalorian wordlessly looked at he clearly flabbergasted man. Corin was drawn between outrage and disbelief.

"You think I'd leave? After everything… I mean, everything?! Not just last night… but… everything?! I'm not leaving! Freaky sentient planet or not!"

There was suddenly a flash of fear in those expressive eyes. It was like a viciously dark shadow and it stunned the Mandalorian.

"Or is this your way of giving me an out? Please…. Please don't tell me you want me to… to… You said I could stay with you… And we… we share something…!"

His hand tightened on the narrow hip, unconsciously pulling him a fraction closer, stopping the words. Corin leaned his forehead gently against the helmet, exhaling. His own hands lightly rested on the Mandalorian's waist.

"Sorry… sorry… that's… I know you said I can stay… just…"

He understood. The intensity of the moment, the words, they played havoc with his own emotions as well. He was experiencing the full scale of them right now, from exhilaration to absolute terror and despair.

The Mandalorian clearly remembered the panicky words of long ago, of Corin begging him to never leave him behind, that he would do everything the bounty hunter asked him to just so he could stay. The fear was still there; even after everything. That insecurity that was so deeply ingrained in him, Corin was struck by it now and again.

"No," he soothed the other man, voice low and intimate. "Never. My words are true. I would never ask you to leave, nor would I leave you behind." He heard the tremors in his own words, so clearly showcasing how open and vulnerable he was as well right now. "You are important, Corin. So very important."

More. So much more. He couldn't voice it just yet, but he could think it; feel it.

He slid the hand on Corin's hip to rest on the small of his back, effectively holding him in place.

"I left the Covert," he continued, voice low and intense. "I had to. I had put them in danger, had forced them to move. I might never be able to return. I was alone. Always a loner, but now alone. Without those who had raised and trained me. Without a home." There was a ragged edge to his words and he didn't even try to hide it. "This is safe. For all of us. It's… home."

Corin shuddered, his own grip tightening against the folds of clothing. "I haven't had anything close to a home since… well, a long time."

"I understand." More than most.

Corin expression was serious, eyes very, very open. "I feel like we… belong… I think the whole sentient-plant-planet-life-form knows. And maybe… people just give up chasing the child. And you. Forget that he ever existed."

The Mandalorian didn't believe that would happen any time soon. But this place was the best he could think of. It was lethal and would annihilate what threatened it. After he had seen his child connect with the life-form he held on to the hope that this sentient creature would guard the little being.

Nimble fingers suddenly brushed over the gap between the sleeve and the glove. The Mandalorian fell into the sensation of tenderness and something so much deeper.

His family.

They had been naked together, but this gesture was more intimate that any nudity could ever be.

He slipped off the glove and cupped Corin's face, smiling behind the helmet at the startled look. They touched foreheads.

_Cyar'ika._

It was in his mind, echoing with its rightness, but he couldn't say it out loud just yet. He only hoped Corin could feel it, knew it on some level, the connection between them strong and unbreakable.

He might find a way to reconnect with his tribe one day, but right now, this was his family, with the child… with Corin.

There was a loud, approving coo and the two men turned their heads, Corin smiling at the child that had been watching them silently the whole time. Those large, dark eyes were filled with something the Mandalorian had only ever seen a handful of times, a wisdom and age beyond its currently intellectual and physical age. The head tilt was quizzical, the smile displaying happiness.

The child cooed again and something touched them, surrounded them, ever so briefly that the Mandalorian wouldn't have thought it had been there if not for the fact that he knew it had most certainly been.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! After the fluff and the deed, here's what some already hoped would happen! Part one of something hitting the fan...

They came only once. Two planetary months after the Mandalorian had decided to stay.

Six bounty hunters and eight Stormtroopers in scruffy armors in an Imperial transport. It had been sighted as it sought a landing space and they had been prepared the moment the hunters arrived.

They came throughout late afternoon, not even waiting for the cover of night. They had been confident, self-assured in their numbers, in their weapons, in the sheer overwhelming power on their side.

They had been so wrong.

Corin stood in the middle of a battle field, covered in blood and gore. The air was heavy with the stink of burned fauna and flora. Around him thick vines with fanged mouths and razor sharp leafs rustled, slithering across the ground, arching and snapping. Now and then something hissed. There was movement everywhere, but none of it was from any bounty hunter or Imperial trooper. None of them were alive. Some were no longer even in one piece.

He tried not to think that the men and women inside those old armors might have been like him: hired help; looking to make a credit or two. Survive. And terrified of what they had found here; a gigantic, lethal creature that mowed them down as they shot at the tentacles and vines.

This could have been him, he realized faintly. It hadn't been, but it could have.

He swallowed back bile.

Across the carnage he met the Mandalorian's gaze.

His armor was testimony to the fights he had been in. There were burns from blaster hits, dings and scratches, and he was covered in the same grime, blood and some other bodily fluids as Corin was. There were clear signs of knife wounds, one serious looking burn on his arm, and his cloak looked torn in many places. Around him, vines twirled almost lazily.

Corin trembled with the aftershock of it all, the horror, the fear, the naked need to survive, to protect the child. That had driven him through the terror he felt.

_Protect the child._

He was currently swimming in adrenaline, on a battle high, and he knew the crash would be spectacular.

He had been in fights before. Many, many times. He had fought the enemy, had gone in knowing he might not make it back, but it had never been… this. It had never been such a nightmarish situation.

Two against fourteen? Sure. The Mandalorian alone would probably have been able to take them out. Corin had just provided cover fire.

Surviving against a small, mobile pulse cannon? Yeah, that would have been really tricky, but still not something that induced nightmares.

A whole planet rising to their defense? Monstrous tentacles surfacing, growing serrated mouths, forming claw-like paws with razor sharp blades, or shooting spikes with deadly precision…? Corin knew he would never be able to get that image out of his mind.

The pulse canon had mowed down the attacking flora and Corin had heard the screeching, the roars, the noise he couldn't describe because he had more felt than heard it. Around him, blackened remains littered the ground, smoke curling off the dead material.

A tentacle much thicker than both his legs together rose, twisting sharply next to him. It seemed to rumble, snarling, and Corin discovered a vicious muzzle filled with serrated teeth at its end. There was blood on those teeth and something like a thick, very flexible tongue seemed to taste the air.

Blood dripped from the head wound into his eyes and he blinked, feeling a little dizzy. Something pushed against his mind, like an invisible force, and Corin wiped away the blood. His left arm ached sharply, dripping blood, too. He couldn't really lift it, exhausted to the bone, still too hyped to understand he had long since gone past his limit.

The whole planet seemed to seethe, angry, outraged, the creature that made up Sonsos snarling at the audacity of those who had come here to hunt. Hunt those who were accepted. It was a soul-deep sensation, an emotion so alien and yet so clear in Corin's mind.

He felt it.

He knew he should be freaked out, run screaming, at the sensation of what had to be an alien mind that he couldn't comprehend, but he no longer had the energy for it. Adrenaline and sheer stubborn willpower kept him standing, aching from too many wounds to count.

The realization that this had been everywhere around them ever since they had landed, that it had crawled through the ground, assessed them, judged them, found them worthy, made it through, was digested, then filed away.

The muzzle full of teeth gave a snort and he startled, suddenly aware how he had started to list sideways a little. A sharp pain in his lower arm had him bite back a groan of pain. Something slid over his back, almost gently balancing him, keeping him from falling. Another vine curled over his shaking arm, the pressure it exuded stanching the blood flowing from a deep cut.

He licked his lips, aware what this gesture meant. That the sentient creature understood, that it hadn't just attacked instinctively, but it was so very much aware of the three individuals it had defended.

"I'm fine," Corin heard himself whisper, mouth dry.

Something seemed to touch him mind, his thoughts. The vine around his bleeding arm tightened, but not in a way that it mirrored the painful hold of months before. It was more like a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you. For… for protecting him."

He felt a wave of anger not his own. Anger at the audacity of the attackers, coming here with weapons, daring to take what wasn't theirs. He was sharply aware of the vastness of the other creature, of the coiled power underneath the surface, and he nearly fell to his knees. The enemy was gone, though. Everything was over. Then the contact was gone, the empathic wave washing harmlessly over him once more.

He exhaled sharply.

As suddenly as it had come, he felt the world realigning itself, the rough feeling around the edges smoothing over.

"Are you alright?"

The Mandalorian stood before him, his whole presence intense. He seemed to be shaking with such primal force, it was a small miracle the plants had had anyone to kill in the first place. In a way he reflected what the planet as such had expressed: rage and fierce protectiveness. Rage at the audacity of the hunters. The dark promise to annihilate who threatened what was his. And protectiveness… of the child. Of them.

Vines snaked along his ankles, brushing over the lower legs.

Corin blinked. And yes, there was some leafy stuff wrapped around the angry burn between two armor plates.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You look like crap."

Corin had to laugh. A breathy explosion of air, almost a wheeze, but the amusement was real. The Mandalorian joking was so rare, the moment had caught him completely unawares. The Mandalorian joking while still scanning for potential survivors or threat was even more rare. And the flat, wry delivery was what kept him from breaking down in complete hysterics.

His lifeline.

It was an outlet for the tension and it realigned his world. A world where a planet had defended them.

"I'm okay."

The unamused look had him want to laugh again. It had to be the adrenaline. The terror of what had occurred. The sheer violence that had been around him, with a freaking planet rallying to the defense of the child.

His body had remembered everything Corin had been taught by both his instructors and the Mandalorian, acting on instinct, training and adrenaline. It had been frighteningly easy to just fall back on that training. It had been even more frightening to realize that, even if by chance he knew those Stormtroopers, he would have killed them to protect his family.

He glanced at the massive tentacle next to him that now crawled over the fallen enemy bodies. The whole ground around them seemed to ripple and heave.

Weirdly, even with the realization what had happened, with the adrenaline slowly receding, it wasn't so horrifying any longer. It was kind of reassuring. Maybe he was about to lose it. Maybe it was the acceptance that they weren't alone.

"Their ship isn't far from here," the Mandalorian said evenly. He didn't sound like he had even broken into a sweat, where Corin was dead on his feet, aching everywhere. "I will see if there are more."

"I'll come along," Corin offered, straightening and squaring his shoulders. Everything hurt.

"No. See to the child."

The child, who was safely locked in the basement of their home. The home that was currently surrounded by a massive living wall of lethal force. Some of those plants looked decidedly roasted, but they were alive.

Someone had tried to shoot their way in.

The child!

"They didn't get in."

Okay, so he had blurted that out loud. He exhaled sharply at the low, dark reassurance.

Corin's eyes were on the twisting mass. He felt weirdly… okay with it. No apprehension, just exhaustion and a kind of acceptance that came with what had happened in the last hours. This creature had defended the child and saved both him and the Mandalorian from certain death. Corin was sure they wouldn't have been able to hold their own against the pulse canon. It had actually taken damage. Some of those plant-growths and vines had been set on fire and torn apart, but the sheer amount and mass had been overwhelming.

"There might be a tracking beacon," he blurted as the Mandalorian headed out. "You need to reprogram it. If you destroy it, they'll come looking!"

The Mandalorian stopped and fractionally tilted his head as he looked back at him. "I know. I will." He sounded almost amused. "I've disabled Imperial ships before."

"Oh. Right. Sure."

Corin shivered as he watched the vines and thick tangle of tentacles and tendrils disappear without a trace, the ground suddenly undisturbed. And with them, the bodies disappeared.

"Aw, shit, it's eating them," he groaned, swallowing hard.

Before him, a path had cleared. The Mandalorian gave him a pointed look and continued toward the ship.

So he hurried over to the house, none of the vines stopping him. They parted, let him enter the house, and he almost fell over the child that sat in the middle of the room. It warbled quizzically, large eyes on Corin. It looked worried.

"You broke out of the basement," the former Stormtrooper voiced the first thoughts that came to mind, stupid as they were. There was giddy relief spreading through him and he almost laughed. "You have some real talent, kid."

It whined, ears still horizontal and turned back, flatter than usual. They clearly displayed those child-like but very intense emotions.

Something swirled around him, touched him, caressed his mind and soul, and Corin was momentarily stunned by the intensity of the sensation, the raw power. His whole body thrummed with an answering hum.

He fell to his knees, aches be damned, smiling reassuringly. "I'm okay. Your dad's okay. He'll be here soon. Everything's fine."

The child cooed, cocking its head.

Corin looked at his splattered armor and grimaced. And maybe he should be startled to see his left arm tightly wrapped in leaves that had sealed the deep, angry cut that ran just along the edge of the armor, but he wasn't. There was only so much his mind could take and maybe this, here, was the limit. The stuff had gotten under the vambrace!

Maybe it was the warm sensation, the power around him that made him want to sink into it, be with it, that had him accept the leafy bandage. And what it meant.

He undid the clasps of the armor and pulled off the soiled jacket, too, then scooped up his little charge. The child snuggled close, shaking only a little.

It was unharmed, ran through his head. The kid was okay.

There was soft murmuring and the large eyes were on the injury. It touched the leafy bandage and Corin had to stop himself from screaming as the leaf moved ever so slightly.

Okay. Yes, there was a limit. He had gone way past it and he was currently a breath away from losing his shit completely.

The child warbled and cooed, looking at him with such a serious expression, he almost had to laugh.

"How much did you feel?" Corin murmured, brushing his fingers over the soft hairs on the green head. "How much do you really understand? Do you understand that there is a whole planet protecting you? Does it talk to you? Can you understand that creature?"

And what was it, really?

It was using a power called the Force. It was so young, untrained, and still it handled his ability to well. Corin had no idea when force-sensitives came of age, how their powers showed, but he suspected a baby with this kind of raw potential was incredibly rare, hence the hunters.

The child whined, looking still a little worried, and curled strong fingers into his undershirt. It pressed its face into his chest and he exhaled. He cupped the fuzzy-haired head and pressed a kiss against the green skin.

"Yeah. Too many questions. I know. It's not important. It protected you. It protected us."

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw something slither across the porch. The door was still wide open, but he was under no impression that the flimsy barrier could keep the creature outside.

The head with the serrated jaws rose, whisper-hissing a little.

The child turned its head, still pressed against Corin's chest, and burbled.

"Thank you," Corin whispered, nodding once.

It was a heart-felt thanks. He knew they would be dead otherwise.

The creature probably sensed emotions, part of him thought. It was empathic. He had felt the wave of emotions just minutes ago, had briefly understood, but there wasn't anything anymore. Only that weird, intense connection to his kid. Corin didn't care whether this was some Force-thing or not.

The plant-thing rumbled, a sound coming from everywhere around them. There was still movement outside, vines everywhere. Then it disappeared.

Corin exhaled.

The leaf stayed wrapped around his arm, on his bare skin. He ignored it; valiantly.

tbc...


	19. Chapter 19

The Mandalorian stepped into their home, quickly scanning the room for a possible threat. The house was undamaged. No one had made it inside. Corin had seen traces of someone attempting to break open the door, but whoever had been the unlucky soul, they hadn't survived the attempt.

With no further threat found, the Mandalorian placed the rifle against the wall and closed the last distance to where Corin stood with the child. It called out to him, forming nonsense words and holding its arms out for the armored figure.

The Mandalorian took a small hand between his thumb and forefinger, the relieved smile so clear for Corin to see as if he wasn't wearing a helmet. The child chirped quizzically, ears twitching as he was studied intently.

"He's okay," Corin said softly. "Absolutely. Not one fuzzy hair out of place," he added with an attempt of humor.

"He is." The Mandalorian brushed the fingers of his other hand over Corin's sweat and blood soaked hair at his left temple. "You?"

He tried an easy smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "A little banged up. Like you. But alive. Like you."

For a moment the Mandalorian just looked at him, still as a statue, then the bounty hunter slid an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Corin resisted for half a second, then rested his head against the armored shoulder with a barely audible sigh. His shoulders slumped, muscles protesting. The child was trapped between them. It didn't seem to mind, burbling cheerfully. The Mandalorian cupped the sweat and blood covered neck, his grip reassuring and gentle. His thumb started to circle over the skin. A sigh could be heard, not the least bit muffled by the helmet.

Corin closed his eyes for a moment, felt the world sway a little as exhaustion swept over him like a tidal wave.

Sonsos had defended them. Sonsos… the creature, the sentient life-form, had protected the child and with him, the two men sworn to protect it. A whole planet…

He shivered.

A planet! He still tried to understand it, but it didn't make any more sense now than a few hours ago.

Why? Why were they worth being damaged by pulse blasts that had clearly torn vines and plants to shreds? Would the creature have done the same for any of the other settlers?

Part of him didn't think so. No one had ever survived an encounter with the sentient plant and no one had ever reported about any kind of contact. People had lived on Sonsos for a very long time; some had left quickly, others had made a life here. None of them had mentioned something like this.

Corin wondered if he should be a gibbering wreck by now, sitting in a dark corner and losing his mind. He wondered if the sane reaction wouldn't have been to run to the Razor Crest and leave the planet.

The embrace tightened.

"Corin…"

"I'm good."

It was an instinctual reply. Completely automatic. It was what Troopers answered when asked by a superior. It was what Troopers answered when a medic checked them out. You never showed weakness and unless you were missing limbs or inner organs, you kept on working. Painkillers and bacta, that was all. You ignored the aches and pains, you powered through. You never confessed to anything that made you useless, a burden, because that would get you redacted. In various ways.

The Mandalorian sighed, sounding tired and resigned. His usual reaction to those words. The grip around his neck tightened briefly.

"Corin…" he repeated.

He opened his eyes and raised his head, fighting the dizziness. "I'm okay."

Another, softer sigh. "You keep saying that. I don't believe you any more now than I ever did before."

He met the shielded gaze. "I'm still in one piece. No broken bones. That counts as okay."

"Supposedly."

Corin huffed a little laugh. "I know what broken bones feel like."

The hand on his waist tightened briefly.

"No broken bones. No concussion. Some bruises. Nothing serious. Really. There was a bunch of very vicious stuff fighting by my side that kept me from getting something a lot worse."

The child made soft noises that sounded like he was agreeing with the statement. The Mandalorian teased an ear, drawing a pleased little burble.

"What about the Imperial ship?" Corin asked.

"Won't ever fly again."

His eyebrows shot up and he silently prompted the Mandalorian to explain.

"The jungle. The ship's in pieces. Three at least, from what I could see."

He suddenly felt a little faint.

The Mandalorian stepped back. "Clean up. I'll watch him."

"Roger that," he murmured.

"Corin…"

He shot him a quick, easy smile. "I'm really good. And I'm going. Keep an eye on the kid."

He handed the child over to the Mandalorian, which drew a happy squeak from the little guy. Yes, he couldn't see the smile, but he knew the bounty hunter was smiling. It was in the lines of his body, in the way his whole being relaxed a fraction, in how he cradled the kid in a way that it wouldn't get in contact with the grime on the beskar armor.

Corin stripped out of his armor and clothes. He went into the shower, washing the traces of the battle from his body. He ached all over, true, but he could really tell the difference between a bruise and a break. The cuts were bothersome, but he wasn't bleeding to death. The worst had been the deep cut that was now covered in… foliage. He was just exhausted; especially mentally.

The images kept coming back, of teeth, vines and claws. The sound of screams, from the Stormtroopers, the bounty hunters, and from the sentient plant. Corin had heard it, the screeches as the pulse canon shredded tissue and soil, as the blasters had burned and cut into the living planet.

He exhaled sharply.

It was on their side. The thought rushed through him and he wanted to laugh. It sounded so ludicrous! They had a whole world that would kill whatever threatened them!

The shower was hot and relaxing, washing away grime, mud and blood. It sluiced off him, swirling away down the drain, and he cleaned the wounds thoroughly, despite the burn.

The leaf bandage stayed firmly around his injured arm. It barely felt like a foreign object, more like a second skin. Corin had never been so badly injured that he had needed grafts, but he suspected that was what it might be like. He didn't really want to think about how it had attached itself to his skin. To his skin! Through the sleeves and underneath he armor!

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, staving off the next surge of fear. He quickly dried himself off and walked out of the shower.

Sitting half naked on a chair, only clad in fresh pants, he let the Mandalorian take care of the cuts he couldn't reach himself, then palpate the bruises and check a few abrasions. The head wound was minor, though it had bled a lot. His ribs felt tender, as did his recently dislocated shoulder, but it hadn't popped out again, nor were the ribs broken.

A strong hand very gently squeezed his neck, loving and reassuring.

When the Mandalorian inspected the living bandage, the leaf suddenly loosened and fell off. Corin stared at the former cut that had now knitted closed and was covered by a fine sheen of greenish fluid. Almost a gel.

"What the…?"

The Mandalorian simply cocked his head, clearly surprised and fascinated, too.

"That was… really bad." Almost down to the bone.

"The plant apparently has healing properties."

He grimaced. "Unless it wants to eat you."

It got him a thoughtful hum.

Upon closer inspection Corin nearly had another mini freak-out. The gel wasn't a gel. It was a nest of very thin, very numerous tendrils that had woven like silky threads through his skin, keeping the cut so tightly together, it looked like it had healed already. It effectively formed a pseudo-skin.

He didn't feel a thing. None of it felt foreign.

The Mandalorian took the injured arm and inspected the plant's work. "Are you in pain?"

"No," he answered faintly.

Corin reached out to touch the net, but the Mandalorian intercepted his hand, shaking his head.

Corin returned the favor, for the first time seeing the skin he had only touched in the dark before, seeing the scars he had only ever felt underneath his fingers. He soaked in the sight, the muscle, the skin, the shape of every scar and mark. He committed it all to memory. He wondered who had treated the Mandalorian in the past, who had helped him with injuries out of his immediate reach, with blaster burns and knife cuts, not to mention possible bite wounds. And who was allowed to help if the injury was underneath the helmet?

The plant-based binding on the Mandalorian's leg easily gave way when the bounty hunter tugged at it. Underneath was the torn pant leg, crusted in dried blood, but the burn had receded to nothing but an angrily reddish mark. There were no remains on his skin since apparently a burn was easier dealt with than a deep cut.

Neither man remarked on it. Corin refused to think about it right now.

A large bruise wrapped around the Mandalorian's ribcage, spreading over the back. It looked colorful and had to hurt. The slow way the bounty hunter moved spoke of the discomfort he felt.

Corin dared to let his touch linger here or there, in places he had touched before, caressed and stroked. He remembered all of those places, so accustomed to the dark he didn't need a visual input. Now he took it all in until a strong hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him.

Corin startled.

The helmeted head turned and their eyes met.

The hum between them was stronger now, the barely contained energy of everything surrounding them like a living them. Corin felt it pulse through him, draw him closer to the Mandalorian without ever moving a single twitch. The hand around his wrist squeezed, holding on, anchoring him in turn.

The child was watching them silently, with large eyes, head turning from one to the other.

"I'm good," the Mandalorian said, voice just a little side of rough and uneven.

Corin understood. The shiver of want and need was swallowed, pushed back.

With a last caress he stepped back, aware that they had too much to take care of before they could allow themselves some private time.

The Mandalorian's whole posture spoke of exhaustion, but he wouldn't stop now. He couldn't. After a long moment he stepped back and redressed.

Corin scooped up the discarded leaf, putting it in a bag. It was still green, with purple flecks and a darker blue stripe toward its stem. It felt soft, flexible, but it didn't move. The vines that had served as a bandage ended up in another bag.

He left the Mandalorian to redress himself.

Outside, there was no evidence of the carnage left. Everything was gone. The sun had just dipped beyond the horizon, dusky light spreading weird shadows.

Corin shivered. It felt like the whole planet had wiped any trace of this invasion off its surface. Everything looked peaceful, as if nothing had happened.

The child toddled along the porch, wide eyes on the dusky landscape. It tilted its head and chirped but didn't go any further. A small hand reached out and held on to the fabric of his pants. Another trill, almost worriedly quizzical.

"We're good," Corin murmured. "The bad guys are gone."

He heard steps, deliberately loud enough not to startle him. He turned to look at the Mandalorian, once again decked out in full, moderately clean armor, and quite possibly hiding a dozen weapons on his person. He looked weary but determined.

Corin raised a tired eyebrow that clearly said 'really?'

The silent stare confirmed that he would do another round.

"What are we going to do with the ship?"

"Spare parts. The Razor Crest might need some repairs. The rest is currency for trade or barter."

Corin nodded. "Unless the vines have torn it apart completely?"

It got him a little snort at the light attempt of humor, then the Mandalorian left.

The child made complaining noise and Corin picked the little guy up, smiling softly as he yawned.

"Quite a day, hm?" he asked softly.

It got him a quiet coo.

"For all of us, yeah. Even for your new buddy. It got hurt, too."

There was a sad warble and the child buried deeper into his arm. Small finger petted the sleeve; underneath it was the injury.

"Yeah," he whispered. "We all got banged up a little. Time to get you into bed."

tbc...


	20. Chapter 20

Logically he knew it was useless to patrol the area. The Mandalorian didn't doubt that the organism that was Sonsos had taken care of every attacker, had left nothing behind. But still… instinct and ingrained behavior was hard to fight. It was just for his own peace of mind to scout the area once more.

Just to be sure…

All he found was what he had expected to find: nothing. Undisturbed earth, no signs of a battle; not even a drop of blood. He picked his way through the forest nearby, but he didn't even catch sight of a single vine or jungle plant. There was nothing here that hadn't been around before.

As he slowly headed back to the house, he stopped. There, on the side of the road, lay shattered armor. Black armor. He picked it up and felt something inside of him freeze for a moment.

Deathtrooper armor.

He rose swiftly and looked around, sharp eyes scanning the ground. Aside from the broken armor, there was nothing.

Wait.

He went off the path that led back to the farm house and pushed past some low bushes. There, in the middle of a clearing between the scraggly growth, was a shattered helmet and a weapon.

Nothing else. Just that. Presented to him like a gift. The Mandalorian knew that everything, every last shred of armor or dead body, had disappeared. This, here, was for him to see.

And it was black.

Not blackened by fire or lack of cleaning. It was the color black.

There had been Deathtroopers… And he hadn't seen or heard them. Something cold swept through him, the realization that he had missed this threat, that they could have taken or killed Corin, then the baby. The Mandalorian experienced a cold wave of horror, his mind racing as to how he could have not seen them, not been aware of the lethal enforcers.

They hadn't made it far. Not really. Depending on whether this was the only one of them to reach this spot, the others might have perished soon after stepping off the transporter.

He looked around. Everything was quiet and dark, only the two moons shedding any light.

Something moved, slithering closer, then a vine wrapped around the black helmet. It splintered, then shattered under the immense pressure. The shards were dragged under, the ground moving with an ease as if it was nothing but water.

The weapon remained. It was a DLT-19D heavy blaster rifle. Standard Deathtrooper weapon.

"You took them out," the Mandalorian murmured as he picked up the rifle. "Deathtroopers…"

There was no verbal reply. It wasn't even anything his mind could understand, but he felt it physically.

" _Vor entye_ – I accept a debt," he whispered.

Around him, the world was silent.

*

The child had quickly fallen asleep and Corin suspected he wouldn't be up and about for at least half a planetary day, maybe more. Just looking at his little green kid had him relax. The child was safe.

"You think there will be more?" Corin asked, quite aware of the presence behind him as he watched the baby sleep.

"Not for a while. I don't want to say there won't ever be another. The loss of a team of eight is… severe. The Guild would think twice about sending another, if those coming here were Guild-sent in the first place. From what I found in the ship's computer, no one from the Guild knew where they were headed. It's not standard procedure."

Corin nodded. Bounty hunters teaming up was rare enough. Bounty hunters working with Imperials was even less of a possibility. They wouldn't be missed for a while, he guessed. If at all.

"There were Deathtroopers."

He whirled around, every muscle screaming abuse, his head spinning, but the words registered sharply. Fear rose and fell like lightning strikes, his heartbeat quickening.

"W-what? Death…?"

The Mandalorian nodded. "I found… remains." He pulled the sniper rifle out from under the cloak. "And this."

Corin swallowed, mouth dry, a different kind of fear rising inside him. Whoever was after the child had Deathtroopers on his payroll? Seriously?

Deathtroopers weren't just Stormtroopers in black armor. They were an elite, consisting of specially picked soldiers who excelled at their tasks. Corin had never been one of them, had never wanted to be one of them, and he had actively tried never to stand out. Because once you were picked, you underwent rigorous training and it had gone as far as surgical enhancements.

They were legendary, on the same level as Mandalorians.

"How… how many?"

"I don't know. A squad, I assume." The Mandalorian's voice was quiet and calm. "They never reached the house. They never made it far off the ship."

"The entity…?"

"I believe so."

He knew he was trembling. It wasn't just fear. It wasn't just shock. Or the pain from too many bruises and cuts to count. It was all of it running together in his mind, pushing home just what surrounded them, what was on their side.

The life-form had actually decimated a squad of Deathtroopers…

"You should get some rest."

He glared at the Mandalorian. "So should you. And no, no one has to stand guard. We apparently have a very vicious guard dog out there." Corin gestured vaguely. "One that takes on Deathtroopers!"

It got him a low chuckle. "Yes, we do."

Deathtroopers. The word ran through his head again and again. The elite killers, the special units… They had come here and they hadn't made it any further than just off the ship because… because a whole planet was viciously protective of them.

Corin sighed and relaxed into the mattress. His whole body still ached, but it was an ache that told him he was still alive. Din Djarin was next to him, feeling so tense he might just break apart, and Corin finally curled into him, despite how the aches intensified.

Din wrapped an arm around him and buried his face into his hair.

Everything seemed to slide into place. The tension drained from his body, from his mind, and the raw feeling made way for calm acceptance.

Closeness. Warmth. Protection. Safety. So much warmth.

"Okay?" Din murmured.

"Yes." Aches be damned.

Din ran his palm over the blindfold that wrapped smoothly around Corin's head, but he made no move to take it off.

"The kid really has a whole planet wrapped around his little stubby fingers, ready to defend it" Corin murmured into the hard chest, feeling amusement bubble up. "A jungle defeated a small, well-armed strike force! Including Deathtroopers!"

Din nosed the silky material. "Yes."

"I should be absolutely freaked out, but I'm actually kinda relieved."

It got him a little laugh. "So am I."

"Is this the place for him to grow up?" Corin asked softly, turning sightless eyes to face the other man.

"The best in the galaxy."

"And for us to live?"

"And for us to live."

Din leaned over Corin as he urged the other man onto his back, warm and solid. He looked at the covered eyes, the narrow face, the light stubble, the unruly hair, still slightly damp from the shower. All blood had been washed off, all injuries treated, and a few bruises were already blooming. He would never tire of looking at him without the filter of the helmet between them. He softly kissed the slightly dry lips. Corin didn't hesitate a second to reply in turn, opening up under the gentle assault.

The Mandalorian felt tightly strung, too much energy coursing through him, and still so very tired. Din traced the handsome face, pushed back the dark hair. He had nearly lost him again. The very thought had something inside of him scream, wail in agony, terrified and infuriated at the thought.

Today had terrified him more than any other time. Today had been the closest he had come to losing everything. Before coming to Sonsos, both had skirted around the emotions and their blatantly obvious connection to each other. Now, months later, Din Djarin knew he couldn't go on without finally saying the words that he had only been thinking so far.

He wanted this.

He had never wanted, desired, anything more than this.

Running his fingers over the defined cheekbones, then down to the lips, he finally leaned down to kiss them again. With more emotions than ever.

" _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ," he whispered when they parted, voice shaking. 

Corin visibly struggled with translating the words. The smooth forehead wrinkled in thought.

"Uhm…"

"I love you," Din said in Basic, smiling warmly at the struggle. "I love you, Corin. _Ner riduur_."

"You…" He swallowed. " _Riduur_?" Corin whispered, audibly reeling from the confession alone. "Your partner?"

He smiled a little and traced one cheekbone, then let the caress run down the neck to the shoulder. "Yes."

Because that was what Corin had become. He was so much more than just a companion. So much more than a simple team member. The Mandalorian had had partners in a professional business sense before. He had taken partners when it came to teaming up for a bounty.

He had never emotionally connected to them. Corin had broken down all his walls. He had been the only one.

" _Riduur_ is… that's… that's really serious..."

"Yes. Very." Incredibly so. It had many meanings, but all spoke of the same.

"You said…" Corin swallowed hard. "You love me?" he asked, sounding overwhelmed and shyly hopeful in one.

"I don't make such claims lightly."

"I'd never say you would!" the other man rushed out, sounding almost nervous. "I just… I mean… me?"

"You."

"Oh…"

Din caught the hand reaching for him. "Why do you doubt my word?"

"I… I don't. It's just… I know we… we share something… and I lo… enjoy it… but I'm not… Mandalorian?"

"I'm still quite aware of it. It's not a requirement," Din told him, amused and exasperated in one. "I chose you, Corin. I offer you my vows."

He swallowed audibly, whole body reflecting his wants and hopes. "Din…"

"I will never willingly part from you or the child."

Strong hands blindly carded in Din's hair. The kiss was almost desperate.

"I love you," Corin managed when they parted. His attempt to echo the words in Mando'a was almost fluid. He was much better at speaking than at hearing and then understanding the words.

Din leaned over the supine man, foreheads touching. Corin's hands were pressed against his chest, anchoring Din and himself in turn.

" _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde_ \- We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

Corin inhaled sharply and he felt the tremors run through the other man.

"This… I… you…"

"We are one," Din repeated, voice shaking with the emotions he felt at the ancient ritualistic words.

It was all breaking free. He couldn't wait any longer. Today had shown him that. Today had opened the flood gates, had given him that last incentive to finally do what should have been done so long ago.

There was no ceremony. No finesse. There had been no clan to witness.

He didn't care.

He wouldn't lose this without connecting their souls in this vow. The Mandalorian way.

"We are one," Corin answered thickly. Then he echoed the vow in almost flawless Mando'a.

Din kissed him. Pouring everything he felt into it, his love, his fear, his hopes. Corin wrapped strong arms around him, answer with the same intensity and need.

Finally, he belonged.

Finally, he knew.

He wanted this. He wanted everything. He wouldn’t give anything back and would fight to keep what he had already.

Something seemed to shiver through the very core of the planet, warm, welcoming, accepting. It was powerful, connected three lives, bright beacons of coiled energy forever interwoven and one.

The entity hummed, reaching for that energy and light, felt it answer and thrum along the billions of neural pathway connecting all. It was harsh and incredibly soft in one, enticing and wonderful. It wrapped around them like a second skin, but only one could use it. The others were passive but powerfully resonating within each other and creating a perfect harmony. The active one was the one the entity was able to communicate with. It was the one who seemed to have been born with the power, without ever having to grow into it, find it, but it needed more refinement to wield it.

The entity, nameless, shapeless, without a sense of species, race or gender, without an awareness of time, had only met a few of this kind in all its endless existence. They had passed through, never staying long enough to establish mutual contact.

All others were either trying to hunt and kill, to hurt and destroy. Some it tolerated as they adapted themselves to this world, shared it, didn't aggressively take or annihilate what didn't meet their standards. Some perished soon, some stayed on.

Those who burned brightly and were capable of communication never reached out.

Until this one had arrived.

It was perfect. It was power and grace, youth and innocence, but incredibly protective and possessive of those who had accompanied it.

The entity had been enticed, had followed the alluring call, and it had connected to the young one. The passive ones were woven into that connection, unable to hear it, unable to understand what it spoke of, but they were part of it all. Important parts.

They belonged here. They were perfect.

The night saw the predicted change in the weather. Rain came down hard and the winds were gusty, blowing strongly across the land. They rattled at the windows, doing no damage, and the rushing sound of the rain was actually rather soothing.

The rain washed away the last traces of the fight, smoothed the earth, cleared the air.

When Corin stepped out of the house the next morning, he carried the bag. There was a light fog in the air, the clouds preventing the sun from pushing the fog away, and he inhaled deeply. He stepped off the porch and walked a little away from the house before he pulled out the leaf and the vines that had served as bandages. They looked still green, very much alive, and fresh.

He placed them onto the ground.

"Thank you," he said softly, trying to push the intention across with his thoughts, too.

There was a low thrum, like an answer that he couldn't decipher.

But he felt something else. It was a sense of rightness, of belonging, of wanting to be here.

A small tendril, dark green with pale flecks of blue and purple, pushed out of the ground and curled around the pieces of foliage, then pulled them under.

Corin shivered. It was a reminder that the entity was everywhere; that it was currently even moving underneath the very ground he was walking on. He unconsciously rubbed over the injury on his arm. The thin threads were still there, holding the injury tightly together, and he still felt nothing. No pull, no burn, no itch. The pain was faint.

_Thank you_ , he thought again. _So very much._

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *happily skips away*


	21. Chapter 21

They were… one. Married…

It took Corin the whole morning to actually realize what had happened the day before.

No ceremony, no officials, no witnesses, but according to Mandalorian customs they were… vow bound. Married! A life-long bond.

He had come back from returning the leaf and vines, still in bit of a daze, and had found the child playing with the data pad and the Mandalorian keeping a close eye on it while he inspected and took apart the Deathtrooper rifle. The rifle was in a dozen pieces, all carefully placed and cleaned, and from the way he handled the weapon, it wasn't the first rifle of that kind the Mandalorian had ever had in his possession.

It had really happened. All of it. The attack, the Deathtroopers, the sentient plant life-form rising to their defense, and… and their union.

The child looked up from whatever it was entertaining himself with, eyes bright and cheerful. It chirped.

"And a good morning to you, too."

"You gave back the leaf," the Mandalorian said, voice soft, almost private. He placed the rifle butt onto the table.

The child reached for a piece of metal and Corin automatically pushed it out of his reach, drawing a mutter.

"No," he said calmly, meeting the quizzical eyes. He looked at the Mandalorian. "It wasn't ours to keep," he added, answering the statement.

The other man rose from the table, closing the distance, and wrapped an arm around Corin's waist, foreheads touching. Corin wondered how he could still function with the million and one emotions racing through him. The magnitude of what had happened, with the planet, the entity, with what Din had offered him, was still bouncing around in his mind.

Din Djarin had chosen him. Him! Yes, they had shared bed space and there had been emotions involved already; very intense emotions. Corin had been in love with this man of a legendary warrior race without truly realizing just how deep those emotions ran, but he hadn't believed in this ever happening.

"No, it wasn't ours," the Mandalorian agreed.

He gently took the injured arm and inspected it. The child leaned closer, clearly interested in the thin threads that glued the wound so perfectly well together.

"It's healing," Corin said, fighting the very physical reaction to the careful touch. "It's like bacta. Just… more alive. And really good."

It got him a nod. The child cooed in agreement.

He met the shielded gaze, wanted to ask so many questions, mostly whether or not this had been really real, or a dream. But he knew it was real. It was the very energy around them, that bond that was more than an exchange of words. He felt it deeply, thin threads of something invisible but powerful.

"We… we… probably need to take care of the ship," he said, voice shaky. "Search it. Get what we can salvage…"

The Mandalorian slowly released the arm and nodded. There was a sort of tension in his frame that hadn't been there for a very long time. Corin recognized it from when they had travelled aboard the Razor Crest together, Corin absolutely oblivious to what was going on, unable to read the subtext in the words and gestures. And when he had tried to read them, he had refused to accept the meaning.

Now… now there it was again. A little bit different and he didn't need a translator or a kick in the head to know what was going through the Mandalorian's mind. He was way too attuned to him, to his body language, and sometimes he almost thought he felt like the other's mind worked.

They had exchanged vows, but Corin wasn't stupid. He knew that since this hadn't been officially acknowledged by Din Djarin's tribe, they were also facing a dilemma. The Mandalorian was facing a very big dilemma, he corrected himself.

Corin wasn't Mandalorian.

Din was and he had taken the Creed. He followed the Way. He had also chosen an outsider for a husband.

"N-nothing has changed," he heard himself say.

He had tried for neutral, but emotions still leaked. Good and bad ones.

Everything had changed! his brain screeched. Everything! The vows didn't need to be officially recognized to be in effect. Mandalorians could exchange them in private, but this… them… it was different. Everything was different!

"We are one," the Mandalorian said, voice reflecting all those unspoken fears and hopes, all those emotions, too.

"I know your customs. Well, at least to a degree," he said. "Not everything. I'm not Mandalorian, so I probably know only a tiny fraction anyway… and I know that because of what I am… or what I'm not… well, I'm an outsider."

"Corin."

"No, don't," he interrupted, straightening his back. "I respect your Creed. I respect you, Din Djarin. Always have. And I admired you far longer. I respect you too much to demand something that you cannot give without losing everything in the eye of the tribe, of every single Mandalorian out there. I cannot have you turn your back on your culture because of me. You are Mandalorian."

The Mandalorian inhaled sharply.

"We are Vow Bonded," he continued. "I love you. Very, very much. That's why I won't ask this of you."

"Corin, I…"

"No. Until you know whether or not I am accepted as more than an outsider," he pushed the last argument home, quite aware of how slim the chances of a clan accepting an outsider who was not walking the way of the Mandalore was. "I won't stand by and watch you sacrifice everything just because… because you think I need to see your face to… to love you, Din Djarin," he blurted. "I have seen your face. In every detail. With my hands." Corin held up his hands. "I don't need the visual. Do I want to know? Yes. One day. On your terms and in accordance with who you are. Not because you think it's a requirement. Not because if me."

The Mandalorian took one slightly trembling hand, fingers sliding over the soft skin and the hammering pulse. He said nothing, but Corin felt it, between them, this incredible energy, the thrum that went through his very soul. He was acutely aware of the other man, felt his indecision, something warring within the other man.

"You would be worth it."

Corin swallowed the lump in his throat, fear sending hot flashes through him. "No! No! Din, please, no… never… please! Promise me!"

The gloved hand cupping his neck squeezed once, then he stepped back and nodded sharply.

"Eat," he ordered softly. "Then we'll check out what we can salvage."

With that the topic was dealt with. Corin forced himself to relax. A heavy weight seemed to lift from him, and he saw how Din's shoulders suddenly relaxed, too. Corin knew it was the right thing to do. This wasn't just about seeing his face; this was about how he had been raised, about the core essence of his beliefs and about being a Mandalorian.

He loved him too much to have the other man destroy his very soul over this.

*

While the Mandalorian had mentioned that the Imperial transport ship had been incapacitated by the entity, he had left out two rather interesting facts, Corin mused. One, it was really torn apart, the engines clearly yanked off the main body. Two, the body had been dragged into the jungle.

The sheer strength and power behind that destruction nearly stalled his brain for a second. He had to remind himself that those vines were just a small, maybe even tiny, part of the organism that lived on or in this planet. The creature was insanely big and he had seen massive tentacles tear into its enemies not too long ago.

So it had now shredded an Imperial transport.

The ship had touched down near the edge of the jungle, the crew completely unaware of the dangers, probably ignoring the hundreds of warnings about Sonsos because their greed for the bounty had overtaken their rational thinking.

Corin couldn't be sure, but he thought the flora had moved since the last time he had checked the edge of the jungle, its relative position to the house.

"You walked in there?" he asked as he stared at the wide path that very clearly indicated where the carcass had gone.

Curiously, the path ended where the trees began, as if they had shot out of the ground within seconds after its passing. Knowing this place, it was quite possible that happened. Those weird plants and vines appeared and disappeared lightning fast, behaving more like animals than plants. Not all plants were part of the organism, though.

"No." The Mandalorian sounded rather… bemused. "When I found it, the ship was right here. More or less in one, though rather scrapped piece."

Corin blinked. Oh…

"You… plan on going in there to get the rest?"

The expression relayed through the helmet was quite clear. No one in his right mind would walk in there. The jungle might have helped them, but neither man was willing to place any bets on how far that tolerance went. No one knew what lived in there, what was part of the creature, what was native to the planet and didn't get eaten. Corin was quite convinced that just about everything in there would be lethal to the unsuspecting traveler.

That wry look changed from one second to the next, the Mandalorian's whole body snapping to attention. Battle-ready. About to jump into action.

Corin whirled around and scanned the jungle, looking for danger, part of him wondering why the Mandalorian hadn't pulled his blaster, then his eyes widened. His heart rate spiked, his lungs expanded, blood rushing through his ears.

"No!"

No, no, no, no! His vision tunneled. His brain shut down everything but one thought.

He reacted. Instinct took over, overriding self-preservation and logical thinking.

He ran after the child that had walked off into the jungle, disregarding any signs of danger, and tried to scoop him up. How could one little kid with such short legs be so incredibly fast? he thought desperately. Why hadn't they seen him? How had he managed to get this far so fast?!

The child was a walking disaster!

"Corin! No! Stop!"

There was raw desperation in the words. Emotions that he had never heard shouted at him. They lanced into his mind and his soldier brain followed the order, coming to a full stop, muscles coiled, and he felt horror rise as he discovered where he was.

The jungle was a massive, foreboding wall surrounding him, filled with the sound of small animals and insects, teeming with life other than deadly flora. Corin saw the vines curled lightly around tall, tall trees that seemed to touch the sky. Flowers of all shapes and colors bloomed, and the fragrance was mossy and earthy.

The path the child had taken was well-trodden and hinted at larger fauna taking it on a regular basis. It seemed to open up further into the foliage, disappearing into the murky green darkness. To the other side, light speared through the canopy of the gigantic trees, dotting the ground like search lights.

Corin wasn't a part of the jungle. He was still only tolerated, and now he had run into the thick of things. Again. Because… because his brain short-circuited whenever the child was in danger. Or the Mandalorian. His family.

The hair on the back of his neck rose. All his senses tingled in alarm.

To his left something moved and he almost jumped when a plant grew out of the ground, twisting and twirling, leafs sprouting along the thick stem that was bigger than his thigh. The head turned, serrated teeth grinning at him. A thick tongue snaked out, testing the air, and it seemed to hiss.

Corin felt his mouth go dry, his shoulders were tightly knotted, his stomach was a cold pit, but the excited burble had him step closer to the child. It grabbed his leg, watching the plant as it lithely moved and twisted toward them. It appeared absolutely unconcerned.

Another vine snaked closer and Corin froze as the tip tenderly caressed the healing cut. It curled briefly around his forearm, squeezing, almost reassuring, then carefully tugged at his wrist.

Out of the corner of his eyes he discovered the Mandalorian not far from them, also rather too deep in the lethal environment, hands gripping his rifle. But he wasn’t aiming it at the plant. They both knew it would be futile.

“Uhm,” Corin managed.

More vines rose, none looking all too threatening, but he knew what they could do and had done.

 _They saved us_ , he reminded himself. _They defended us. They actually took care of the attackers and… helped treat your injuries._

“Hello,” he said, somehow feeling a little foolish.

The vine stroked along his wrist and fingers, and he shivered. The Mandalorian was equally greeted, clearly as ill at ease as Corin.

“We’ll just… get the kid and…” Corin nodded at the child. “And go?”

There was a rustling movement and trees seemed to actually move out of the way, breaking open the massive green wall and forming a clearing. The child made trilling noises of excitement, clearly not at all concerned that they were surrounded.

Corin could only stare. “Kriff,” he breathed.

There, just beyond what had been an impenetrable wall of green, was what remained of the Imperial transporter.

The vine rose behind him, looking over his shoulder and finally giving him a little push. It was a clear offer and indicator what the entity expected. Exchanging a look with the Mandalorian, he finally headed for the wreck. One slow step after another, wondering when the mossy ground opened and would eat him.

The child easily followed, eyes alight. It burbled words Corin couldn't understand, unconcerned.

A low thrum vibrated through his body, the sense of belonging that he had briefly felt just this morning suddenly back. Safety. Home.

He glanced at the Mandalorian and received a stiff, wary look in return.

"You can feel that, too, right?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"And it feels like it wants us… closer?"

The gloved hand tightened on the rifle. "Yes. If its empathic communication attempts can be received by our brains, and interpreted correctly."

The child cooed, still absolutely happy to be here, surrounded by something no one had ever been able to understand.

"I think he can."

The Mandalorian stopped close to his child, still ready for just about everything. "Possibly."

"No, I think they talk. In a way." Corin rubbed over the healing wound, feeling it tingle. "And what I feel… it's… not aggressive. I feel like this is a gift-wrapped offering.”

They had stopped next to what had once been an Imperial transporter, capable of travelling long-distance with a heavily armed infantry on board.

The Mandalorian’s posture hadn’t eased. “I believe it is.”

Something still hummed around them, vibrating through every cell of their bodies, and Corin swallowed hard. It was like a heavy weight, that singular attention on them, the attempt to make them understand without hurting their minds.

Yes, this was an offering. It was as if dragging the hull into the denser parts had been an invitation of sorts, a first contact of another kind. Like playfully hiding a toy and waiting for a playmate to find it, he thought faintly.

Getting them acquainted with the jungle. Easing them into what Sonsos really was. Not just vicious flora with teeth and claws. Not just slashing vines and the ground opening up to eat its enemies.

It was more. So much more. And it wanted them to… know.

"Making friends," he whispered.

The Mandalorian stared at him, then finally slung the rifle over his shoulder in a clear demonstration.

There was an approving chirp from the child and Corin smiled as he picked him up. "Well, let's see what the ship's got to offer."


	22. Chapter 22

The main body the ship looked like it hadn’t lost much of its integrity. It appeared structurally sound, though Corin was careful as he picked his way through the wreckage.

 _Gozanti class_ , he thought to himself. Quite well-maintained, but not in perfect shape.

There was no one inside, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been a pilot at one point. Imperials never left a ship unprotected. That, in turn, meant the creature had most likely gotten rid of the intruder, too.

He suppressed a shiver.

The Mandalorian was still outside, keeping watch and watching the child as it inspected the clearing.

They were safe, Corin told himself as he walked out of the ship. They were safe and the child was safe. His family. The entity meant them no harm. It had killed for them.

Near the broken landing gear, vines lazily curled around the splintered metal, as if to show that yes, it had been their work.

“Your assessment?” the Mandalorian asked, voice even; neutral.

“I haven’t gone over every compartment, but they were flying fully stocked. I think we need to clean out more of the basement for storage.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “We take it all. Any parts worth anything will go, too.”

Corin understood. Trade. Stock. Supplies. This would take a while.

Corin did two more walk-throughs, checking each compartment, looking for hiding places, and finally had a long list of what the ship had been loaded with. The Mandalorian had to hold back a laugh when the other man gave a delighted cry at discovering a large box full of rations.

"I haven't seen those in ages!"

The Mandalorian tilted his head a little. A silent question.

"My favorite kind of dry rations. A very special kind of basic nourishment. No added meats or spreads required. They are extremely good. You can eat them right from the pack, no rehydration needed. Tastes great cold, are even better slightly warmed up. My father brought some of them home when I was a kid. I never had my own."

The Mandalorian looked at the silver package, drawn between laughter and exasperation.

"Imperial rations," he only commented.

"Coupled with really great memories," Corin added, voice a little wistful.

He understood. Memories were precious. Corin's memories of his family were few and he had no family left.

"That stuff never spoils," he continued enthusiastically. "And they have a whole box full! This is really great!"

He chuckled at the enthusiasm. This was his _riduur_. This was Corin.

"Take it. We can come back for the rest."

Corin beamed and did just that, carrying the box out of the ship with a huge smile on his face. The child made a curious noise and he grinned broadly.

"Wait till we get home. This is way better than frogs or lizards."

The child chirped, not looking convinced. It had been chasing after curious lizards while the men had worked, and the Mandalorian had seen him eat at least one small lizard already.

"Really," Corin teased. "An absolute delight! I loved it when I was kid."

It got him a doubtful look, but the child followed him as he carried his spoils away.

The Mandalorian watched the vines that lazily crawled over the ship's hull and curled around jagged tears. The forest shifted and moved around them, a living, vast organism. He brought up the rear, never letting his guard down, but nothing happened.

*

If the village was somehow aware of what had happened, no one came out to the farm to check on them.

Either everyone was blissfully unaware of events, or they simply ignored it all in favor of keeping their heads down. Corin was convinced it was the latter. An Imperial ship the size of a Gozanti class coming in and the troops attacking a farm house hadn't gone unnoticed.

The jungle remained quiet, almost passive, whenever they worked on the ship. For now it was just lugging home weapons of all kinds, including ammunition, fuel, supplies, even clothes or any shred of salvageable material they could need in that regard, and food. Corin was delighted to see how well-stocked the ship's pantry was and he didn't waste a single shred, no matter how obscure or questionable.

Time to discover what it was later.

Medical supplies were prized and immediately sorted and catalogued. When he found bacta packs, Corin whistled and checked them to see if any were damaged. They weren't.

The Mandalorian had gone through the ship's log, downloaded whatever seemed interesting, and he studied their data files.

"Anything?" Corin asked as he stepped into the gutted cockpit. He felt exhausted, really looking forward to just calling it a day. All of him was covered in dust and grime from crawling around in every corner of the ship and a shower was next on his agenda.

"No. There is no indication as to who sent them." He sounded frustrated.

"I'm done for today. How about we go home? I need a shower."

The visor met his hopeful gaze and he heard the soft chuckle, barely there, easy to miss, but Corin didn't.

"Home," he agreed.

Din felt something hot and hungry shoot through him as he watched Corin walk out of the shower, only a towel slung around his hips, looking flushed from the hot water, hair still damp.

The blue eyes darkened, reflecting the same desire, the same want. The blindfold had to hide the eyes, but it didn't cover the passion, the yearning. Din had started to dislike the black piece of cloth, even though Corin never complained about it. He always, without fault, wrapped it around his head. He had also gotten a lot better navigating the bedroom in complete darkness. Still, Din hated the necessity. He hated having to put Corin through this, no matter how often the other man reassured him that it was okay.

"I love you," he told his husband, mouthing one ear. "My soul."

Corin's fingers slid over his back, leaving red marks, holding him close as they moved together.

" _Gar shi_ – only you," came the low groan. "Din…!"

His body felt like a live wire, energy coursing through him, thrumming through his mind, making him want, need, hunger.

He buried his face against the damp neck, muffling his cry, feeling Corin's every tremor. And more. He felt the sheer presence of the other man, his very soul, the energy that enveloped them, branching from deep within them and encompassing the other. Making them one.

"You can feel it, too?" came the soft whisper.

He nodded against the warm skin. It was everywhere. It was alive and familiar. And he wasn't afraid of it. It felt… right.

"We are one," Corin whispered.

He hummed, feeling content.

They were. And somehow, he not only knew it, he felt it in every cell of his body.

*

The child helped whenever the Mandalorian and Corin headed into the jungle. Well, in a way. Mostly making a mess of presorted things.

Corin had used the time stripping the ship to teach the child applying his powers to assist. It was delighted and did its best.

Okay, so it ended with a piece of plating nearly braining him once, but the little guy was getting better. The plating looked like it had been forcefully ripped off the bolts keeping it in place, but at least it hadn't sailed off into the foliage. Corin sometimes wondered of those projectiles might accidentally hit something dangerous or would anger the organism all around them, but things were quiet.

The child looked immensely proud of his accomplishments, though it was tiring him out pretty quickly and he slept away the rest of the day and the whole night whenever it overdid it. It was one of the things Corin tried to help him with: moderation. Channeling just enough of the Force to accomplish the task, without draining himself.

After a few days, it attracted very active plant-life, the vines curling around wherever practice was, some of them even acting like a buffer in case something went zipping off. Corin was impressed and frightened in one.

Those tendrils snapped up with an incredible speed, catching wayward parts, and after a while it looked almost like a game. The child laughed happily, burbling and trilling, then sent the parts off with gusto. The vines shot up and caught them, never getting so much as a bruise or scrape.

"Damn," Corin whispered.

The Mandalorian was next to him, a solid presence, reassuring and warm. They never really touched outside the privacy of their home, aside from maybe a clap on the shoulder, a squeeze of the wrist. Still, Corin felt they were so much closer without physical contact, the very presence of the other man something he felt everywhere.

The first time the child levitated shredded metal parts and placed them around the stem of their latest visitor with a vicious maw full of dagger-like teeth, the plant watching avidly, Corin felt a burst of pride.

“Good job!” he lauded the little one.

It gave him a happy smile, chirping.

A vine pushed the metal parts toward the child and it started anew.

It was teaching him. Teaching!

Was the plant force-sensitive? Did it have a different way of approaching what the child could do? Probably, because the child was getting better, concentrated on staying within the perimeter set by the vines and flowering stems with the vicious muzzles, and it seemed to communicate with the thing. How intelligent was this creature? He couldn't wrap his mind around the existence of this massive, seemingly endless life form. A life form that had become very active around them, approached them, taught the child…

"This is weird. But good," he muttered as he watched. "Mostly weird."

"He is learning."

Corin nodded. "Taught by a planet?"

There was no reply. The Mandalorian just watched.

"How big do you think it really is?"

"No one knows. There is no way to measure it. No scanner can pick up the true mass."

Which was disconcerting to say the least. There was no distinction between the planet's mass and the entity that was everywhere. How old was it? Was it the only one? Was there only one? How could this thing even exist?

Corin's mind was overwhelmed whenever he tried to grasp the basic concept of what Sonsos was. He wasn't a scientist. He had no idea what existed in this vast galaxy, how life of this kind could come into existence, what it needed to maintain itself. It had to be a kind of symbiosis. If it was a plant, it lived off nutrients gathered from the air, the water, the earth. Did it catch and eat local animals? But how much did it have to eat to maintain its existence? And wouldn't the planet be bare of life already?

Yes, his head was already starting to hurt.

The child burbled excitedly, drawing him out of his musings, and Corin grinned. He walked over to where the little one sat, bright-eyed and excited, though showing first signs of getting tired.

"You're getting better.

It cooed.

"And you're a big help. You're really getting a hang of it. Time to call it a day, though."

It got him a chirp.

Vines curled closer and one touched the small, green hand as if high-fiving it. Corin almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

*

Working on a ship the size of an Imperial Gozanti class, taking it apart and stripping it of all materials, would probably have taken them months. Just moving food and weapons had taken over a week. So the Mandalorian offered the locals pick of the spoils in exchange for helping them tear the ship apart.

Corin was only mildly surprised to find a dozen helping hands ready to assist, even if it meant being close to the jungle.

No one went into the clearing, though. Whenever he or the Mandalorian did so, eyes followed. No one asked to accompany them. And no one asked where the ship had come from and why it was here.

It was one of the perks of this place. A tight-knit, tight-lipped group of people who all had reason to be here, who banded together when needed and kept out of everyone else's business.

Corin made some good deals for fuel supplies for the Razor Crest with the metals he had already stripped and while he noticed one or two looks, no one shied away from them or seemed aggressive. There was a kind of quiet respect, a careful air about each of the traders, but no one outright demanded answers.

The engines were cleaned within three days. Traders went home with their spoils. Two men had been hired as mechanics to go over the Mandalorian's ship and repair what needed to be repaired in exchange for medical supplies. Corin had bartered long and hard, had thrown in a pack of bacta for each, and in the end he had their services for the time it took to get the Razor Crest into prime shape once more.

Vhon offered them kyios in trade for carts full of electronics, willing to teach Corin how to take care of the animals. There was a wordless debate, then the Mandalorian inclined his head. Having a mode of transportation helped.

"You need help with them, call," Vhon offered, already loading the most precious parts he had chosen onto his mount. He would get the rest later. "They're resilient, need no fussing, and you can let them run on your land. Nothing here will eat them."

Vhon left them free choice when to drop by and pick their trade. Corin promised it would be soon.

It turned out the two men hired to repair the Razor Crest were actually engineers. Corin didn't ask why they were on Sonsos, what their reasons for staying on such a remote, lethal planet were.

Everyone here had a reason.

No one asked questions.

Yes, Corin liked that here. It didn't matter what your background was, on this planet you started over.

The two men worked for three days and when they were done, the ship featured completely overhauled engines that had more new parts than old. The hull was now in prime shape and defective plates had been removed and new parts inserted.

The Mandalorian ran several tests, looking pleased when everything came up in perfect working order. Corin shook the two men's hands.

"Great work."

"Easy," was Jouhn's reply. He was the older of the two, grizzled, of undetermined age. "Looked worse than it was."

"Thanks anyway."

With a last nod at the silent Mandalorian, they left with their traded payment.

*

"You're still here," the medic remarked.

Corin still had no idea what the man’s name was, which was a first for him. He knew most of the people of the village, much to the Mandalorian’s amusement.

They had met at a small shop that doubled as what might be called a bar and only opened on Trade Day. According to the medic, Trade Day was once a month and people from all settlements met in this village to, well, trade. Corin had been curious, had strolled through the multitude of brightly painted stalls, but he saw nothing they needed right now. He was browsing, nodding at the villagers he knew and who were in a chatty mood, or he simply politely inclined his head when he was greeted with what he had learned was a respectful way.

Corin looked around the dim interior. There were several wooden chairs, some tables and a kind of counter with a small collection of bottles filled with colorful liquids. A cracked mirror was between the shelves full of bottles and stained glasses stood on the bar counter. The floor was scrubbed wood, old and creaking, some of the larger holes filled with baked earth.

The place served hot and cold beverages, some containing a dizzying amount of alcohol only few species might be able to stomach.

The medic was such a man. He drank the stuff like it was water.

Corin had decided to stick with a local brew that tasted slightly bitter but wouldn't make him drunk after just a whiff of it.

Now he shrugged. "Looks like it."

"You're staying."

"As long as we can."

Those sharp eyes were knowing. "Hn. Right." The medic took a long swallow from the lethally alcoholic brew. “Good job out there. You could have kept the spoils of your victory. You didn't. People talk and they talk good things. You made friends. Allies. All good. You have understood how it works."

Corin shrugged.

“Looks like you made quite an impression on this world, too," the medic continued conversationally. "You are wanted to stay. Not many can say that.”

“I can count at least a dozen people right now right here who are staying on Sonsos.”

“You were approved. You are liked.” He took a pull from the bottle of unidentified liquid. "Sonsos took sides. Your side. It stays around, pays attention to you. It interacts with you."

Corin couldn’t really argue with that. There had been a lot of interaction, right down to treating their injuries.

There was a little voice inside him that told him that this was more than tolerance. He rubbed a hand over the faint scar that had remained from where the knife had cut deeply into his arm. The plant threads had disappeared, leaving only closed but marked skin behind.

The burly man studied him. "Has it started to communicate with you?"

His eyes snapped up. "What?"

"It has. Interesting."

"What are you talking about?"

It got him a lazy shrug.

Corin studied the dark liquid. It had a slightly blue sheen. Curious. He wondered if it was made of roots, berries or leafs.

"So, can we expect more visitors?"

He met the sharp eyes and pointedly drank the brew.

The medic chuckled. "You take a page off his book, hm? Well, whatever comes here, it won't last long, in my opinion. Not when it goes after your little one, it seems."

Corin felt his hands tighten around the mug.

"And we can always use the raw material that comes with such foolishness." The medic smirked and emptied his glass.

That the man was still alive minutes after the first sip was amazing anyway. That stuff he was drinking could dissolve beskar, in Corin's opinion.

The large man rose. "Give my regards to your _riduur_."

Corin refused to react, show that he understood. He simply nodded and emptied his own mug.

The medic gave a rumbling laugh, then ambled off.

tbc...


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed my lack of daily updates, but Life intervened. Read: work!
> 
> You'll get a huge chunk today as an apology :) 
> 
> This includes a good part of a scene in episode 8, but tailored to fit this story. Also, I've veered so far off course with LadyIrina's AU, this doesn't include events from Family and Home at all. So Corin never met Paz or any other Mandalorian. This is their first meeting. Corin has two beskar pauldrons, but the second one was given to him by his Mandalorian, too.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Taking the Razor Crest off world had been something the Mandalorian had been thinking about for a while now. The attack had driven home the fact that the child was still wanted, that a bounty was still on the small green head, and he knew it meant he and his family would have to stay in hiding.

On Sonsos. The planet was the best protection the child could have.

He would be settling down, for the first time in his life, not returning to the Covert to provide for the clan. That was a new thought for him, one he had mulled over for a while now. His life had been different from what he was living now. Still, he had adjusted to it with more ease than he would have thought.

He also had a family, one he had chosen, with a husband he had shared vows with. It meant they would live with a lethally vicious plant-organism that was apparently force-sensitive or knew a lot more about this Force than either of them. It was a creature that showed remarkable intelligence, communicated with their child, and even attempted some form of interaction with them.

Somehow, he didn't feel uneasy about it anymore.

But there was something he needed to do. There was a task he had to complete, something that had been on his mind for a while.

He had one last trip to make and that involved returning to Nevarro, in the hopes of finding the Covert healthy and whole. He had endangered them, had made them come out of hiding and defend him and the child. Returning was just as dangerous.

There was no argument about whether or not Corin and the child would stay back on Sonsos. He could see it in those blue eyes, that core of steel that rose as he told Corin what he was planning to do. There had been an argument brewing in that quick, agile mind, ready to face the Mandalorian over whether or not he would take his husband with him.

He never so much as suggested it.

Corin looked slightly surprised.

They were his family and part of the Mandalorian wanted his clan to accept them, accept the Bond.

When they left Sonsos, Corin felt a momentary stab, as if this was forever. He had no idea why he had grown so attached to the lethal place, but he had. This had been their protection so far. It was his home.

The child made sad, almost distressed little warbling noises as they lifted off and Corin gave it a soft smile.

“I know how you feel, buddy,” he murmured.

Its large eyes seemed bottomless.

"We're coming back," he promised.

The child mewled to itself.

Below, the jungle seemed to ripple like a green ocean.

 _We're coming back_ , Corin vowed silently, as if he could reach the entity.

There was a faint hum, a whisper of a presence touching him, a tingle along his spine, then nothing once more. He hoped it could believe them, because he wanted to return. He really did.

*

Nevarro was one of those barren planets with a rocky and volcanic terrain. Corin had briefed himself throughout the flight, aware that where they were going was the place where it had all started.

It was insanely dangerous, but probably the last place the Imperial remnants looking for the child would suspect it would be. Not to mention that there was a whole guild of bounty hunters salivating over the price that had been put on the kid's head.

Yeah, he had heard of better plans, but the return here served a purpose. He wouldn't question the Mandalorian's decision, though he would go into this fully armored and armed.

Neither had expected to find Imperial presence at Nevarro. Sure, there wasn't a Star Destroyer hovering menacingly over the planet, but there were Stormtroopers everywhere.

Corin felt a sharp sense of dread as they snuck in under the radar, the Mandalorian more than capable of getting into such a hot spot without detection. It was a skill and the Razor Crest came equipped with being unseen. Since her maintenance and upgrade, she now had a few nifty new features, too.

The town was overrun with Imperial patrols. People stayed away or in their houses, sneaking through dark alleys to avoid detection.

The Mandalorian had set down the Razor Crest away from the town, hiding her in the lava flats, studying the scans and messages he had hacked into or picked up.

Corin waited, silent, the child on his lap. The little guy was looking out the window, clearly fascinated by what he could see. Corin wondered if he remembered being here.

The Covert had relocated, but not left the planet or the vicinity of the town.

Corin knew that the moment they stepped into the underground enclave he stood out like a Wookie in a Stormtrooper parade. Not only was he the only adult without a helmet to hide his face, he was also wearing beskar pauldrons together with Din Djarin's old armor. Eyes hidden under helmets followed his path, but no one tried to stop him, let alone addressed the Mandalorian or him. There was no murmur or chatter, just silence.

There weren’t many Mandalorians around. He had counted seven so far, all wearing different, individual armor. Corin's soldier brain took note of them, their armor, their weapons, their individual markings. He filed it all away, all of them rated as very dangerous. He would never underestimate any Mandalorian, no matter their size, lack of visible weapons, or their non-threatening stance.

He knew what they were capable of. He knew their reputation.

The deeper they wove their way into the base, through echoing tunnels, by-passing rooms Corin caught only fleeting looks of, the less populated it seemed. The place had a less than lived-in feel to it, more like provisional, as if it had been set up recently. From what his Mandalorian had told him, the Covert had had to move after revealing themselves. Corin just hoped they hadn't been hunted down by whoever was after the child.

The child in question watched it all with interest, large eyes following their progress, as it peeked over the rim of the carrier. It was mostly silent, but it didn't seem distressed or afraid. It was a natural curiosity with a healthy dose of caution.

Corin's tension tripled when the Mandalorian led them to a room lit by what looked like a smith's forge. It was a huge, round chamber, full of tools of the smith trade, the bright flames of the forge casting dancing shadows. This adrenaline level went through the roof when a massive Mandalorian warrior who looked like he could single-handedly derail an AT-AP Walker suddenly followed them inside. His presence effectively cut off their retreat.

The unreadable mask turned to study Corin, who refused to be intimidated. He wouldn't show weakness, he told himself as he face the other man. He was a soldier and he wasn't helpless. He would also protect the child by any means necessary.

Whatever the heavy infantry guy saw, it got Corin a hard to interpret growl, then the Mandalorian's stance shifted to make himself larger and wider than he already was.

Oh kriff, ran through his mind as he kept his features neutral, shielding everything from those around him.

He turned his attention back to the forge. The sole occupant of the room was a Mandalorian in an ornate, golden helmet and a short fur coat, with a brownish breastplate alongside a dark brown kilt and dark green pants. He looked at the small group, his stance giving nothing away.

"You have returned."

Okay, Corin decided. Female. She looked slighter, even with the armor, but he would never make the assumption of thinking she was easy prey. Mandalorians were warriors, legendary, and he doubted even a squad of Stormtroopers could take her down.

"You shouldn't have returned at all," the heavy infantry Mandalorian in the blue armor snarled. "It was stupid. Your arrogance is going to endanger us all!"

Corin felt a shift in the air, a kind of tension, like a spark waiting to ignore a barrel of explosives. He had no idea about Mandalorian ranks and social structure, but whoever this guy was, he and his Mandalorian weren't on good terms. This was an old argument, something personal of sorts.

Not good, he thought, trying not to show how ill at ease he was.

"We saved your sorry ass. Because of that." He gestured at the child. "Now you return?"

Corin's eyes narrowed and the baby ducked down a little. His hands flexed and he had to force himself not to rest one hand on his blaster or reach for his knife. Calling his child 'that' had hit a nerve. Blaming him for whatever had occurred let protective instincts flare.

"We had to run like rats and find a new hiding place because we revealed ourselves!" the big one growled.

"You chose to help me," the Mandalorian said softly. "I didn't ask you to."

The rough laugh had Corin's hackles rise. His fingers clenched into fists.

"So you bring back this thing and… an _aruetii_." The last was almost spat.

Corin knew it was an insult. A very personal one, too. He also understood the Mando'a and he understood the meaning the word could have. Yes, he was an outsider, not of their clan, not of any clan, and not a Mandalorian. He didn't mind being called outsider, but the child wasn't a 'thing'. He was a person, a powerful little person who was his family!

"Watch your mouth!" his husband said evenly, but there was a warning there.

The tension in the room was reaching dangerous levels.

His Mandalorian looked at the bigger one. The sharp lines of his body, the way he held himself, told Corin more than words. Yep, this was going to go up in fire and flames soon. Painfully, too. His own body had shifted into a battle-ready pose, quite aware of the child strapped to his chest, and his priority would be the kid. He wouldn't let anything happen to it on his watch.

Corin's eyes flitted through the room, categorized possible weapons, threats, escape routes and safe spots to hide his charge and defend him. He assessed every nook and cranny, every dark corner.

"You think you can take me, _aruetii_?" the big Mandalorian challenged. "Do you think you could best any Mandalorian?"

Oh, he didn't really believe himself capable of taking on any Mandalorian, even with the way his own had trained him. But he would put up a good fight and hopefully land at least a few painful hits.

The Armorer stepped forward, graceful, exuding power, and he wondered if she was the leader of this clan. The bigger one deferred to her and the others stayed outside, respectful but also curious and ready in case of a threat. Within a heartbeat, the tension level dropped and Corin felt himself release some of his own.

"Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction."

Corin forced himself not to step back, show any kind of apprehension or aggression, as the Armorer approached, looking at the child. Innocent dark eyes met the visor and the child ducked down a little more, making a soft noise. It wasn't distrustful, just cautious, and it was very much aware of the still more than a little charge atmosphere. Corin squared his shoulders, not directly facing at the female Mandalorian, but not looking down either.

"This is the one you first hunted and then saved?" the Armorer asked. Her tone gave nothing away.

"Yes. The one that saved me as well."

She studied the child. "From the mudhorn?"

"Yes."

"It looks helpless."

The child made a soft sound and Corin automatically curled a protective hand around the little being.

"It is not helpless," the Mandalorian said. "It has proven to be… quite powerful. It can move objects with its mind, control them... it is force-sensitive."

"I've heard of such things," the Armorer said calmly. "The _jetii_."

There was a shift going through the other Mandalorians and Corin just about stopped himself from reaching for a weapon. He knew it would be the absolutely worst thing to do, but the sky-rocketing tension was tearing at him.

"It is an enemy," came the rumble from the heavy infantry guy.

Corin's eyes narrowed and the tension in his shoulders was enough to leave him with a severe headache.

"No." The Armorer's voice left no room for argument, silencing the other Mandalorian. "Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not."

She let her gaze rest on the child for a moment longer, then it slid briefly over Corin. She turned away, as if dismissing him as unimportant, and he almost sighed in relief. He was just that: not important. Not worthy of their, her, attention. If any of them found out what he had been… that he had been a Stormtrooper…

Dread curled in his stomach, had him want to run and hide. He would be dead within minutes. His former employer had hunted and killed this Covert. They had taken countless lives. He knew a single Stormtrooper was easy prey, even a small squad, and that they were hunted for sport in some regions.

So no, he didn't want to stand out any more than he did. He could live with insults and threats. He had been the target of them before.

The Armorer walked over to the forge, busying herself with pouring liquid beskar into a metal form.

"It is a foundling," she declared as she worked. "By Creed, it is in your care. Until it is of age or reunited with its kind, you are as its father. This is the Way.”

"This is the Way," the Mandalorian echoed, glancing at the child.

The child cooed softly as if it understood and approved. Corin himself approved. A lot. Hearing it like this, made official, had something inside him spread warmly through his soul.

Din Djarin had been officially named the little guy's parent. By his clan!

"Does the foundling bear a name?"

"No."

"Can it tell you a name?"

"No," he repeated. "It can't speak."

"Then it shall be your honor to name him, Din Djarin."

He inclined his head.

Corin watched, mesmerized, as the Armorer approached the Mandalorian with a piece of metal in her hands.

"You have earned your signet," she announced.

He was motionless, like a statue. The Armorer placed the newly created crest on the Mandalorian’s left pauldron and with swift, sure moves welded it against the beskar.

Corin stood in the shadows, eyes wide as he recognized the shape.

Mudhorn. A mudhorn skull.

The Mandalorian silently regarded the new addition to his armor, clearly moved while trying not to show it.

"Thank you," he finally said. "I will wear this with honor."

Despite how soft and even the voice was, Corin had known this man long enough to read the emotions. And there were a lot. A whole lot. Receiving this signet was a big deal. He felt a rush of something, of warmth and pride, of longing. The Armorer’s clear-cut words were like an official blessing. The child now had a family, a father, a clan.

He brushed his hand over the white fuzz on the green head. It made soft, cooing sounds, watching the ceremony, then turned its head to meet Corin's gentle smile with a baby smile of its own. It understood. Corin was convinced that the little guy understood just what had happened, about becoming more than just a charge in the care of a warrior. The child was clan now. It was Din Djarin's foundling, his son.

The enormity of that settled in Corin's mind, his very soul, and he felt his lungs constrict. His son. The child was now officially under the protection of the Mandalorian tribe, belonged to a clan, had a family.

Suddenly the Armorer was back in front of him and he startled, trying to evade the dark-tinted gaze and failing. She seemed to inspect the beskar pauldrons and Corin felt a surge of both shame and defensiveness rise. He wasn't a Mandalorian, but he was wearing beskar. Beskar was Mandalorian iron and rightfully belonged to them.

The fear doubled.

Would she take it? Would she demand its return to the true owners?

An angry voice hissed at him. It was a different voice than before. _They were gifts! He gave them to you! It was his choice and he gave them to me!_

He wouldn't voluntarily part from them.

"He is the one you chose," the Armorer stated, voice still without inflection.

Wait, what? How did she…?

"Yes."

Her unreadable gaze was fixed on Corin. The former Stormtrooper gritted his teeth as he felt the shiver of unease and fear run through him. He had survived getting shot in the gut. He had faced his former employers and nearly gotten killed. He had been taken, beaten and drugged. He had faced off against a lethal plant the size of a planet. He had fought against bounty hunters and Stormtroopers, watched a viciously effective plant creature taken them all down.

It all paled compared to facing Din Djarin's clan. His people. Those who had saved him, had raised him, had trained him. Those who fiercely protected children, but would kill an enemy without a second thought.

"The one you place your trust in."

"Yes."

The female Mandalorian clearly assessed him, her gaze hard and unreadable, her whole body loose and still battle-ready, radiating calm power running through her veins. She was determining his worth, and something inside Corin curled up with a whimper. He knew he could never live up to their standards, would never be one of them, not even by affiliation. He was an outsider, no matter the beskar pauldrons. They might just see them as an affront to their Creed.

The child watched them, head turning from Corin to the Armorer, then back again.

"He is an outsider, not of Creed. Not of Mandalore."

"Yes."

His mind blanked, panic surging. He was the enemy. Nothing but the enemy. He had killed in the name of the fallen Empire, serving those who still clung to old ideals and who were hoping to reinstate the old power. He was no one. He was nothing at all.

The old, ugly voice of doubt and self-loathing whispered in Corin's head and he fought it, refused to back down this time. The old abyss yawned underneath him, tried to pull him in, erase what he had built and fought for.

No!

He wasn't that person anymore! He was Corin, not a nameless number! He was trusted. He had fought and bled. Din Djarin had bound himself to him, to Corin. The child was his to protect, even if he would never be a Mandalorian and therefor never clan. But he was family. He knew there was a difference, even the Mando'a language knew no different word for either. _Aliit._

The Armorer cocked her head a fraction of an inch.

“You have made a choice,” she announced after a long time that was actually mere seconds.

"I have."

"You have become one."

His Mandalorian seemed to straighten even more. "Yes."

"Have you removed your helmet before his eyes?"

"No."

The one in the blue armor shifted, clearly surprised, but he remained silent.

"Has he removed your helmet for you?"

"No."

The Armorer was equally silent, only the sound of the Forge audible in the round room. She turned her head, gaze resting heavily on Corin, who tried to school his features, to not give away how utterly terrifying this was right now.

What if the loophole with the blindfold was also against the Way? What if he had made a horrendous mistake? Would Din Djarin have known this? Had it ever come up for any of those of this tribe? Corin knew the idea had surprised his Mandalorian, had made him consider it for a good while before agreeing. He hadn't gone against the Creed. He had never revealed his face to another's eyes, except the child. And according to him, the child didn't really count.

“He shall be of your clan then," she finally said. "A clan of three.”

He suddenly felt light-headed. This had to be a mistake… she couldn’t mean… how did she… and… and she approved? He wasn't… he wasn't Mandalorian! How could he… be… clan?

“Whether he takes the Creed or not, he shall be by your side, recognized as nothing but what he truly is.”

Her visor gave nothing away, but Corin was fixated by those hidden eyes. His mouth was dry, he felt faint, almost dizzy, and his ears were ringing.

She nodded once; briskly. “This is the Way.”

The last words were echoed by the present Mandalorians. Corin had really forgotten about how many of them were listening in and now almost flinched.

The Armorer approached the former Stormtrooper. Corin forced himself to remain completely still, back straight, a soldier standing to attention in front of a superior officer. The child’s ears suddenly perked up and it expectantly watched the Armorer. It cooed.

“ _Cin vhetin_! Your past is your past. What was is no more. You will only be judged by what you do, not what you have done.”

The Armorer reached for her tools and Corin saw something in the grasp of the prongs. He was about to say something, but her gaze silenced him.

"We have no species or bloodline. We are more than just people. We are a culture. We are an idea. The armor is part of our identity. It is what makes us Mandalorian. You are of his clan, recognized by this tribe. You are his family."

The declaration was met by silence of all those present. Quite a lot of Mandalorian warriors had filed into the Forge, Corin realized faintly. He could barely comprehend what was happening, his mind buzzing like static on a comm.

The mudhorn sigil that not much later adorned his left pauldron had him swallow. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers along the graceful lines.

He was clan. Officially clan, declared by the leader of the tribe that had taken in and raised Din Djarin. He looked at the man, saw his proud stance, the lines of his body clearly displaying his pride.

The child turned its head, ears perking, and it warbled happily. Short arms stretching, as if it was trying to touch the pauldron that was far out of it reach.

" _Ner ijaat_ – it is my honor," he whispered roughly. " _Vor'e_ – thank you."

Her visored eyes met Corin’s open blue ones. He had no idea what she saw, what her expression was. He simply hoped he could convey what this meant to him, that he could live up to what she expected of him.

“He is your clan now,” she told Corin. She turned back to the Mandalorian. "He is your clan now," was repeated. "You shared the vows of bond with him?"

"We are bound," he repeated, voice firm and steady.

Corin felt warmth blossom, that sense of belonging and home, having this amazing man as his partner, his husband, and now recognized as such by the Mandalorians of his tribe.

"You shall find your own future. You walk the way of the Mandalore with a clan of three," the Armorer told them in that firm, no-nonsense voice. "This is the Way.”

The other warriors echoed the words again.

"This is the Way," the Mandalorian agreed. He turned his head and looked at the child. "There is still a bounty on his head."

The Armorer nodded. "We have heard of such a price. Your foundling is hunted."

"Imps," the blue armored Mandalorian growled, the one word already dripping with disgust. "Scum of the universe."

Corin refused to react. He simply refused to feel the stab of fear, the unease trickling through every cell.

"We adhere to the _resol'nare_. The tribe protects," the Armorer declared. "As we have before. The child is in our care. It is a foundling and of clan." She looked around the assembled warriors. "The Guild would not dare face us again."

"They ran like sand rats," the large Mandalorian stated, laughing. "They were no match or challenge!"

"It would put the tribe at risk," Din Djarin argued.

"Our time in the shadows has come to pass." The Armorer looked straight at him. "We cannot rid the galaxy of the Imperial remnants like they attempted to erase all that is Mandalorian in the Great Purge. But we will make sure no bounty is left on the foundling's head."

Corin was stunned. He understood what was being said, the magnitude of the declaration, and he could barely breathe.

"This is the Way."


	24. Chapter 24

Outside the Forge, Corin started to tremble as the words started to sink in, the magnitude of what had happened.

That they knew. That he was Din Djarin's _riduur_. That he had been accepted as part of his clan. That he was clan by signet. He had never allowed himself to think of their Bond as something anyone else would ever know about. He had never thought anyone would know. Now a whole tribe knew.

They had accepted it! He had been acknowledged! He! An outsider!

Corin's mind whirled with the Armorer's words. He hadn't misinterpreted the words, right? They couldn't have been mistaken for anything but acceptance… or… really?

He hated his brain. He really hated it for being conditioned to expect the bad luck to rear its ugly head, listening the sharp whispers not to expect too much, never to interpret a situation that hadn't been outlined in cold, hard facts.

But he wore the signet… right? He was…

 _Not a Mandalorian_ , the voice taunted. _What do you really know about their customs? Have you heard of them viewing anyone but their own as clan?_

He pushed it down into the darkness it had come from. The Armorer had used the very words and he was clan!

They had taken in the child, declaring him as part of their tribe. They had sworn themselves to the child's protection. They would actively rise against the Guild should the bounty continue to be active. A whole tribe, protecting one child.

 _Not hyperventilating_ , he thought faintly. _Don't show them weakness. Don't show them any more openings than you already have!_

The child was cooing happily and when the massive Mandalorian stepped in front of him, it squealed in delight. The large eyes were nothing but curious and not the least bit intimidated by the heavily armed man.

Corin felt muscles coil, shifting his balance into a fighting stance without either raising his arms or reaching for a weapon. He was automatically defensive and ready to protect the child, not sure what to expect, but ready to react.

Usually the child had impeccable judgment when it came to dangerous people, those with ill intent towards it or them. Right now Corin was too high-strung and too much running on adrenaline to listen to that logic. The unknown Mandalorian had been hostile already, so who knew what he wanted now.

The visor gave nothing away. He was studied, then there was a rough laugh.

“You have guts. You have spirit and soul.”

The child chirped, flicking large ears.

"As does this little one."

The Mandalorian reached for the kid and Corin stepped back, eyes narrowing, warning off the possible threat.

It got him another chuffing laugh. "Relax. I would never hurt a foundling."

Because foundlings were precious, the future, he recalled. The child had been an outsider like him when they had walked into the Covert, but now it was of them. Corin had no idea how he was viewed by this guy, since he was married to one of their clan, but he wore armor, just not the helmet. He spoke their language, but he hadn't accepted the Creed.

He squared his shoulders.

He wouldn't be cowed! He was Din Djarin's Bonded through vows!

The child cooed and grasped the heavily armored finger as the Mandalorian held out his hand again. Its ears perked and it babbled excitedly, clearly delighted to make the warrior's acquaintance. Both hands held on to the armored digits, meeting the hidden eyes with wide ones of his own, clearly delighted.

The child's force-sensitivity allowed him a certain kind of insight into whoever he met, and Corin had come to trust him when it came to that.

"This is who we saved."

"Yes," Corin's Mandalorian confirmed and joined the former Stormtrooper.

He had no idea how long he had been there, watching, guarding, ready to intervene should there be a threat. But Corin understood that Mandalorians valued foundlings. Those taken into their care, no matter their origin, would be given the chance to join the Creed. Even if they had been their enemy's child, the Mandalorians would raise them, protect them, give them the choice.

The child chirped and then made happy little noises as the big Mandalorian ran an infinitely gentle and careful caress over the small head, using only one finger.

Corin felt himself relax a little.

"What is it?"

"No one knows."

The child looked at the big warrior, clearly fascinated, and suddenly raised its arms in a very obvious demand. The Mandalorian chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound, and he easily but carefully picked the child up. It squealed in delight as it sat in the huge hands.

Corin's nerves were strung tight.

"Relax," the blue one rumbled. His face plate turned to the child. "This is your foundling, Din Djarin. Raise him right."

"I will. This is the Way."

It got his a sharp nod. "This is the Way."

The child made gurgling noises of agreement, intently studying his new friend. Corin was still on edge, but the way this man handled the tiny being was with infinite care and softness.

"So you took the vows?" he finally asked, looking at the new clan leader.

"Yes."

"With an _aruetii_."

The Mandalorian tensed slightly, something that barely registered, but Corin saw and felt it nevertheless. It was a subtle warning.

"Watch what you say," he said coldly, voice soft and low and so very, very dangerous. "He is of my clan. He is my equal."

"Not Mandalorian." Another chuckle. "This one must be special."

"He is."

The taller Mandalorian handed the child back to Corin, who made sure the little one was safely back in the harness. No harm had been done; he was actually quite delighted.

"He still doesn't know your face? Even though you bonded?"

"No."

"Why?"

"This is the Way."

The larger warrior cocked his head. "He didn't take the Creed. He's an outsider. Don't tell me he hasn't tried to get under the helmet."

"He is clan, Vizla!" the Mandalorian bit out. "He has respected the Creed long before that. He accepts. It doesn't matter!"

"It always does. You could have taken off your helmet. Bond Vows allow it," came the hard jab.

Corin's tension skyrocketed again and the child watched it all with wide eyes, though it didn't seem to be overly agitated. Whatever was going on, it was like some kind of power-play interlaced with hair-pulling and playground squabbling. It was a weird kind of confrontation, almost like an old argument that flared whenever those two men met.

Yes, he decided. It was like that. They were both Mandalorian warriors, would go into battle for each other, side-by-side against a common enemy, protect the other, but right now, the aggression was of a different kind.

His Mandalorian glared at the other man. "I took the Creed," Din snarled. "I live by the Creed. I will not forsake being a Mandalorian."

And they had found a way. Corin had never wanted more. He would happily live this life as it was now, blind to the true face of his husband. It was the Way.

The other Mandalorian, Vizla, if Corin had heard correctly, just looked at him, clearly puzzled. "Hn. Figures you'd find such a gem in the dark, even if he's an Imp."

Corin's face lost all color and everything inside him screamed to run. His fight or flight impulse was screeching through him, urging him to do something, to protect the child, to protect Din, to remove his presence.

The child made a little distressed coo, looking at Corin with large eyes, and he forced himself to relax.

"Watch your tongue!" Din growled, all raw fury and barely contained aggression now.

"You deny he's a disgraced Stormtrooper? Word gets around, Djarin. Rumors, some lies, some truths. You apparently rescued him from execution and he's tagged along ever since. You let him stay. An Imp! I would have shot him, pretty face or not."

The Mandalorian's hands slowly clenched into fists. The leather of his gloves creaked.

"He - is - clan," he repeated, punctuating each word. "His past is the past. It is of no consequence."

Vizla chuckled. "I heard the Armorer's words."

"Then heed them!" he snapped.

"Temper, temper. Hope you put it to good use. He must be good."

And that was when self-control broke. While Vizla was physically bigger, Din had the element of surprise as he pushed the other man back against the wall with a resounding smack. The larger man brought up an arm to block the blow, laughing.

"Whoa, take it easy! I'm not claiming your mate!"

"You just insult him?" he hissed.

"Simply confirmed a rumor. He was an Imp. Deserter. Hunted by his own. You didn't kill him. Very unlike you. So there must be something about him, more than that handsome face…"

Corin was shaking so hard, the child gave him another worried look, chirping softly. Tiny fingers curled into his sleeve and he felt a soft warmth spread through him, calming his thundering heart, reassuring him of the love and affection his child held for him. No matter who he was. No matter what he had been.

" _Cin vhetin_!" Djarin snarled. "The past is the past!"

The other Mandalorian pushed him back with ease, displaying a strength Corin knew his husband would never match.

"You fly off the handle like that every single time someone calls him out on his past, you'll end up dead sooner than later."

Corin swallowed, realizing just what had just happened. A test. Showing Din Djarin how vulnerable he was the moment someone attacked Corin. How easily he lost his temper. How dangerous it was.

His Mandalorian just stood there, chest heaving, still too tense to be called relaxed, but then his shoulders dropped a little, muscles uncoiling.

He inclined his head in acceptance of the reprimand.

The child cooed, head tilted, looking at Vizla, then at his father. The heavy infantry soldier chuckled.

" _Cin vhetin_ ," he echoed. "Doesn't matter who you were." He was looking directly at Corin. "You're of Din Djarin's clan now. Even if you're not Mandalorian," the large man had to drive another jab in.

Corin felt a flash of anger. The emotion surprised him and he pushed it back.

"I'm not," he spoke up, voice inflectionless. "I never claimed I was or would be."

The laughter was filled with real humor. "Take note, Djarin! That's how you handle yourself." Viszla poked a finger at the other Mandalorian. "Everything else will get you killed. You really got yourself the perfect match! _Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la_. - Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be."

Corin blinked, his face clearly showing his surprise because it garnered another booming laugh.

"Stay alive, wherever the Way takes you."

"Stay alive," the Mandalorian echoed the rather formal goody-bye. "Wherever the Way finds you."

"Take care of this one," the blue-armored warrior said, a clear smile in his voice as he nodded at Corin. "Or maybe, he'll take care of you."

He turned and walked away.

"Uh, what?" Corin managed. He was about to get whip-lash from the repeated and very abrupt changes in moods.

The Mandalorian placed a hand on the fresh signet on Corin's pauldron, his gaze meeting those bright blue eyes. There was pride in that gesture, coupled with an intensity that had the former Stormtrooper shiver inside. They stood like that for a long moment, then the hand fell away.

"Let's go," Din said quietly.

"We're not staying?"

The silver helmet tilted quizzically.

"This is your clan!"

"Yes."

"You haven't seen them in ages and you just… want to leave? I mean… really? I don't mind if you want to catch up or whatever."

The Mandalorian made a soft little noise that sounded like a suppressed laugh. "There is nothing to catch up to. All that needed to be said and done was said and done."

Corin glanced into the direction of the Forge, noticed that they were alone, no one else around.

"Is this some weird custom I'm not aware of?" he asked, a little unsure.

"No. It's nothing like that. Should you want to stay, we will stay."

"Don't you have personal things somewhere? To pack and take home?"

Another soft laugh, accompanied by Din shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "No."

Corin was momentarily at a loss.

"All my belongings are aboard the Razor Crest. I never left anything behind."

Oh. Oh! Because he might not make it back…

"Oh," Corin murmured. "Right."

He could relate to that. He had had next to nothing either.

Din gave him another quizzical head-tilt. Corin gave him a tiny smile in return.

"Let's go."

He knew they were being watched as they walked back through the tunnels toward the lava flats, but it was a different kind of atmosphere. There was respect, there was acceptance, and the signet on his pauldron declared his affiliation louder than any words. There were also a lot more Mandalorians all of a sudden.

"Will they really openly face down the Guild for the kid?" Corin asked softly as they stepped out of the tunnel and headed over the volcanic landscape.

"Yes," was the calm reply.

They were far away from the town the Covert had been hiding within. Soon they might no longer be hiding but openly show their strength.

"Because he is a foundling?"

"Yes."

They walked in silence.

"Knowing Greef Karga, he will find a way to make a deal," the Mandalorian said. "He won't lose his hunters in a senseless confrontation he gains nothing from."

"It's a big bounty."

"He might face annihilation of the whole Guild on Nevarro. He already has Imperials crawling around town. He wouldn't want the Covert to turn against him, too"

Corin pondered that as they walked across the barren lava flats. The child was dozing, eyes almost fully closed, appearing content.

"The Empire won't stop looking, though."

"No."

As long as the child was wanted, as long as someone out there was after it, it wouldn't be safe. He caressed one ear, drawing a sleeping mumble. Corin smiled at that.

"You're a father now," he said softly. "Officially. Decreed by your tribe."

The Mandalorian stopped in the shadow of the ship's belly, looking at the child, then at Corin. "We. We are the child's parents, Corin. You are my clan. You are my recognized partner by Bond Vow. He is ours."

Corin felt himself flush, the emotions those words evoked incredibly powerful. "Still getting used to that. Well, everything, actually."

He knew what the vows had meant. He knew they were married. Just… part of him was too stunned that it was now known by the tribe and… accepted.

"Ours," he murmured. "Wow. Still… wow…"

The child gave a sleepy coo, then perked up a little as if aware this was about him. Corin knew he was currently featuring a very stupid smile, but he couldn't help it.

"You can give him a name, y'know," he said. "Officially."

The Mandalorian placed a gloved hand on the fuzzy head. "Yes." His own voice was filled with wonder. "To name one who cannot remember his own name or who was never given one is an honor. _Kir'manir_."

Give a soul a name, Corin translated in his head.

"Any ideas?"

It got him a little head-tilt, the Mandalorian radiating indecision. "Not really. I never named a foundling before."

He had never been named father of a foundling. It was absolutely new for him, though Corin thought he was a wonderful father already.

"Let's not rush it. I mean, it's not a requirement. We know who he is."

The Mandalorian drew in a startled breath, the visored eyes meeting Corin's open ones. The former Stormtrooper smiled, all ease and filled with a warm confidence he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Din looked at the child, large eyes holding his gaze, the small face serious.

" _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_. I know your name as my child," he spoke the ritualistic words of adoption.

Corin felt a burst of unrestrained emotions, the words soft but laden with meaning. The child chirped, trying to grab a finger. The Mandalorian held the small hands. There was a low coo, the dark eyes suddenly filled with an understanding that should be far beyond its years.

The Mandalorian looked at Corin.

He ran a gentle finger over one ear. " _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_."

The child burbled, smiling. This special little guy with his incredible powers was now theirs. They weren't just guardians or clan, they were fathers. The Mandalorian gently bumped his forehead against Corin's in a tender gesture.

They were already in the cockpit of the Razor Crest and ready to launch when Corin discovered what was in the child's hands.

"What have you got there?" he asked softly and took necklace. It was a silver amulet on a leather strap.

There was a soft but sharp inhalation behind him and Corin looked over his shoulder, meeting the Mandalorian's startled gaze.

"What is it?" he asked.

The child trilled, clearly excited about its new toy.

"The mythosaur. I didn't think I'd see this again." He sounded almost… awed. Humbled.

"Where did he get it?" Corin turned back to the child. "Where did you get that, kid?"

It burbled and started to bite onto the amulet like it had become his new, favorite binky.

"Don't eat it," Corin said automatically and took it out of his mouth. "Do we return it? Do you think he grabbed it from someone?"

The Mandalorian slowly shook his head. "No."

The child cooed and curled both hands around the large amulet, looking kind of proud and mischievous in one.

"We need to leave," the Mandalorian murmured and turned abruptly back to the controls, getting the ship ready.

Corin studied the amulet, mystified, but then just shrugged it off. Wherever this had come from, whoever had handed it to the child when no one had looked, if it was okay with the Mandalorian, it was completely okay with him.

The Razor Crest slipped out under the radar of the Imperial presence, disappearing into hyperspace.


	25. Chapter 25

The flight back to Sonsos took longer than the trip to Nevarro. The Mandalorian was going the long way and taking a few detours to throw possible hunters off their track.

Corin was silent as they went into their first hyperspace jump. The child was sleeping, curled up in the compartment downstairs. The necklace was its new favorite possession and it hadn't parted from it even when Corin had tucked him into the blanket. So he had let him keep it.

His mind was still digesting everything that had happened, reeling at some of the events, especially the clan's acceptance of him, the outsider, as Din Djarin's partner. And the declaration that the Mandalorian now had his own clan, his own family.

He had the pauldron with the mudhorn signet in his hands, finger repeatedly brushing over the latest addition to his armor.

A very special addition.

Something given to him by his Mandalorian's clan.

It was incredibly important and he couldn't get a handle on his emotions, which were all over the place.

They had been a team of three already. Just them, on the run, hiding from Imperial remnants and bounty hunters, surviving against so many odds. The Mandalorian had made him understand that he, Corin, formerly CT-113, was part of them. He was a valued, valuable member.

He was trusted. Needed. Loved.

The last sent little eddies of warmth through him.

Now… now he had been recognized by Din Djarin's clan, was part of his new clan. Him. Someone not a Mandalorian. And the tribe would protect them.

They slept in shifts, just as they had on the first trip. Corin was accustomed to the Razor Crest's controls and very familiar with flight routine. He didn't think he could outfly a New Republic patrol, but the course plotted wouldn't so much as touch the main routes.

The Mandalorian had taken care to swing by a few moons and planets, passing them quickly and disappearing once more, making it harder for a possible tracker to follow them.

When the child was awake, Corin sat with him in the pilot's chair, explaining star systems and charts, learning them as he taught them, too. The child was attentive, sometimes burbling as if trying to repeat the words. Corin encouraged him gently.

They were on the last leg of their journey home, both in the cockpit, Din piloting, the child on Corin's lap and watching the stars streak by. Corin was lost in thought. He was looking at the amulet the child had pushed into his hands for some reason. It was intricately designed, clearly old and not recently created, and only the leather strap had been replaced not too long ago.

Had the Armorer given it to the child? If yes, why? It was a beautiful piece and it was made of beskar, which made it incredibly valuable.

"Corin."

He looked up, startled, and he discovered they were approaching a planet. They had dropped out of hyperspace and he hadn't really been aware of it.

"Uhm," he managed.

There was clear amusement in the Mandalorian's whole posture.

"That's… not Sonsos," Corin said as they approached.

It was much larger, had only one moon, and it was less green. A lot less green.

"Astute observation."

"Where are we?"

"Navwee."

Corin had never heard of it. At all. He scowled at the other man. "Why are we here?"

There was no answer. The Mandalorian simple prepared for landing, smoothing bring the ship around to enter the atmosphere.

The Razor Crest touched down smoothly, blowing snow and ice into the air. Corin stared at the landscape. There was nothing but mountains, trees and snow.

The Mandalorian got up and wordlessly walked past him, then went down into the hold and toward the ramp. Corin scooped up the child and went after him, mind whirling.

"Why are we here? There's nothing here!"

"Exactly."

He scowled again.

The bounty hunter opened a compartment door and pulled out heavy looking suits. He tossed one at Corin, who caught it.

"That's a snow suit!"

He didn't really have to imagine the expression behind the visor. He knew it. "Get dressed. We're going outside."

"What… why?" he asked again, slipping into the cold weather outfit with an ease that spoke of dressing and undressing countless times. Muscle memory never failed.

"You missed it."

And with that the Mandalorian lowered the ramp and walked out into the cool, snowy day.

Corin stared after him, mouth opening and closing, feeling slightly shell-shocked and still incredible warmed in one.

The child toddled down the ramp and he discovered that it was wearing a thicker robe and even small, sturdy boots. What the…? When had…? What?!

He hurried after his partner.

The moment his boots hit the snow, a nostalgic feel raced through Corin. It started low in his belly and seemed to spread everywhere, had his eyes fill with moisture and he wanted to… he wanted… so, so much. His lungs expanded, drew in the crisp, clear air, tasted the snow and the cold. He heard the child's excited burbles and trills. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, emotions so overwhelming, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He inhaled deeply, the cold, clear air so very different from the warmer, more moist atmosphere of Sonsos. Or the dry heat of Nevarro.

He had missed this.

Really, really missed this.

The crunch of snow, the very smell of the air, the ice… the feeling of cold air biting into his skin… the sun… breath fogging in front of his face…

Corin blinked hard and slid the snow goggles over his eyes, refusing to sniffle. He refused to feel homesick, too. He had never had a home before Sonsos, a sense of belonging and peace. He had only ever preferred snow and ice, but it had never felt like… something only for him.

This, here… it was his preferred environment, but he would never ask to move here. He would never leave the one place where he had this deep sense of safety and belonging.

The Mandalorian was just a few steps away, watching the child as it walked and fell all over the place, snow sticking in clumps to its thick suit, only the ears peeking out. It was such an amusing sight, Corin had to laugh.

"Thank you," he said from the bottom of his heart as he joined them.

The landscape was breathtaking. Mountains, covered in thick layers of snow, barren trees that waited for the return of spring, frozen lakes dotting endless fields, the sky bright and blue.

The Mandalorian just looked at him, but the gaze was filled with something only Corin could read, something he felt deep inside. He gave his husband a brilliant smile, saw how it eased some lines.

"You didn't have to do this."

"No. But I wanted to."

Bright blue eyes, alight with a soul-deep joy, met the visored gaze. "Thank you," he said again. "So very much. I… I didn't know I had missed this until now."

There was a squeal from the child, who had managed to get snow all over himself. He looked like a loveable snow creature. Corin had to laugh and he picked him up, dusting the suit off.

"Geez, kid! How do you do it?"

It got him an excited warble. Corin secured the hat that kept the little head warm, then let the child run off again.

It took five minutes and a puff of snowy air went up around the child as it used its powers on the powdery stuff.

Corin groaned.

The Mandalorian chuckled softly, clearly amused.

More puffs went up and Corin plucked their little charge out of a moderately deep hole, the large eyes reflecting nothing but joy and playfulness.

"How about you help me build a snow fort?" he offered.

And they did.

It looked more like a lot of haphazard piles of snow, clumped together, higher than the child, but he was having fun. And so was Corin.

They went back inside when it became clear that the child was getting tired. Neither was cold. The snow suits had been perfectly insulated. As Corin stripped the winter layers off the small form, the child was already falling asleep. Mumbling to itself, he curled up in the blankets when Corin was done drying the small, green body off. He would probably be out like a light until they got back home. He dressed him in his robes again, then put him in his bed.

"We have supplies to last us another day."

He looked up from smoothing the baby blanket. "Come again?"

The Mandalorian just gave him a patient look.

"I…" Corin looked at the child, then at him again. "I'm good." And he was. He really was. He smiled softly. "I want to go home. I like it here; I loved spending time in the snow just for fun. But Sonsos is home."

The tight shoulders loosened and soft leather gloves cupped his still cold-flushed face. The Mandalorian touched foreheads, the sign of affection stirring such fondness in Corin, he was almost speechless.

For a wild minute he wanted to accept the offer of another day, just stay, share the cot, feel Din Djarin with him. Another, much louder part, reminded him that Sonsos was their home, they had a place there, that they were safe there.

"We can come back whenever you want," the Mandalorian said softly, emotions running wild in those few words.

"I'm good for now. Really. Thank you. So much."

There was a faint murmur from the child and its fingers curled around the blanket it was wrapped in. Corin's expression melted into gentle love.

The Mandalorian gently squeezed his neck in an affectionate gesture, then climbed up into the cockpit. Corin made sure everything was safely secured, then closed the door on the child's room. The Razor Crest lifted off just as he joined the Mandalorian in the cockpit.

Navwee fell away below and within minutes they were leaving the atmosphere and heading toward Sonsos. Corin felt a deep peace settle within him and he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

*

Coming back to Sonsos truly felt like returning home. Their home. A planet that was home of a gigantic sentient being that seemed to stretch all over the small piece of rock at the edge of the known galaxy. On their approach they swept over the vast expanse of jungle. There was nothing but green, with a few spots of what might be small lakes, thin bands of rivers, and the already known bare spots where settlements had been allowed.

"Do you think those who came first found these eroded areas?" Corin asked as they flew over the jungle at great height. "I somehow can't think of anyone trying to cut or burn down the trees and survive it."

The Mandalorian shrugged. "Neither can I." And he had never given it much thought.

Neither of them had tried to cut down trees or burn other plants. The jungle moved around them like the living being it was, giving them room just as much as they gave it respect.

He landed the Razor Crest in her usual spot and powered down the engines. The child was awake and alert, clearly looking forward to coming home. It cooed excitedly.

The Mandalorian walked down the ramp, his whole being relaxing, his very soul at ease. The child was next to him, burbling, already waddling over to the house. Corin watched it as he stopped next to him.

A fine tremor seemed to run through the ground and it felt like welcome. There was something everywhere, around them, touching them in a way the Mandalorian had never experienced before. It was a greeting, respectful, curious, and familiar. It surrounded them like a second skin, permeating their souls.

It was a welcome.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and strangely warm and familiar despite the alienness.

The house was still in one piece. There were no vines overgrowing the building, no weird plants. Everything looked just as they had left it.

He knew it wasn't over, that the Imperial remnants were still looking for the child, but he had a family and he had a clan. He wasn't alone and he didn't have to look over his shoulder the whole time.

On Sonsos, a whole planet was keeping watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to copy LadyIrina's scene where they play in the ice and snow! I do hope it doesn't read like one and stands on its own in this AU of her AU.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how long it took to write this... I was agonizing over the whole thing and I'm still doing it. *sighs*

Corin stripped off the armor, fingers again running over the mudhorn signet, the wonder and pride still as strong as before. The Armorer had accepted him. The leader of Din's clan, his tribe, had accepted the outsider and given him a clan signet of his own. It was something that endlessly ran through his mind, something he had a hard time truly understanding.

Had any Mandalorian clan ever accepted an outsider who hadn't taken the way of the Mandalore? He had learned the language, he knew some customs, he would respect the Creed and never ask anything Din couldn't give him, but did that qualify him as something other than _aruetii_?

Apparently, he thought faintly. At least in the eyes of the Armorer.

Was he Corin, Clan Djarin? Corin Djarin? His own name had been erased a long time ago. He had been given a number and the honorable name of Valentis had disappeared.

Honorable.

Corin almost snorted.

It had never felt honorable; more like a burden. He had never missed it, had tried to keep his head down and not speak of his family when among his fellow Troopers, but some superiors had known.

As much as he knew about Mandalore and the _Mando'ade_ by now, he didn't know if the spouse kept their own names or who adopted whose clan name.

He gently placed the invaluable pauldron to the side, then took off the rest of the armor until he was only in the shirt and pants that were underneath. His eyes fell on the blindfold that had been and still was so very important to him, to them. He took it, fingers brushing over the dark, silky material.

A whisper of a breath, like a sharp intake of air, alerted him to another presence, one he had been subconsciously aware of, but one that didn't alarm him.

When he turned, he found the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, watching.

Corin just looked at the black visor, felt the air in the room change gradually, his own body tensing up, but not out of fear. It was a different kind of tension, more of a serenity, no negative emotions involved. The Mandalorian radiated it, the ease in the lines of his body, his whole posture.

When he closed the distance, Corin felt that already familiar thrum, that pulse between them, as if the very energy was charging.

He took the blindfold out of Corin's hand, shaking his head.

"You are family, Corin."

"I…"

"We are married." Din sounded infinitely patient.

"But… I… I mean, you don't have to…" he stammered.

"I want to."

"You know you don't have to!" he blurted. "Ever! I never expected… or demanded… I never would! Even now!"

"Corin, listen to me: I want to. It was my wish to do so the moment we became one. It was on my mind for a very long time."

"What?! No!" Desperation swamped through him, born out of the sometimes still too present self-loathing and insecurities. "You couldn't… please tell me you didn't seriously consider…"

"Sometimes. I entertained the idea. You gave me another option." He slipped the silky cloth between his fingers. "It was more than I could ever have hoped for. But you are now officially my clan, my family… my husband."

Was he? Was he in a position that would allow Din to take off his helmet without losing the honor to wear it ever again? He wasn't Mandalorian and never would be. He wore the armor, but everything else… Had he really been accredited? He had been given the signet, but Corin's doubts reared their ugly heads.

The Mandalorian slowly wrapped his fingers around Corin's wrist, stilling the racing thoughts.

"Corin. You are accepted. By my tribe. You are my Vow Bonded. I wouldn't turn my back on the Way of the Mandalore by removing the helmet in your presence now."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." There was amusement there and Corin just knew the other man was smiling underneath his helmet.

He swallowed hard again. He knew this was the most intimate moment for the Mandalorian, more than sleeping together had ever been. More than any physical intimacy could ever be. Showing your face was incredibly personal.

The Mandalorian let go of the wrist and raised his hands to his helmet.

Corin froze.

When Din Djarin lifted the silver helmet, he could only stare, eyes wide, whole body taut and filled with such nervous energy, he was about to burst.

He felt something inside of him unfold at the sight, something that was sending an unexpected surge through him.

He knew the face already. He had mapped it with his fingers and lips. He knew every line, every scar, every hair. He had traced the square jaw and prominent nose, felt the dimpled smile. He had never assigned a color to his eyes or hair. He had never dared.

It had never been important.

What stood out were the eyes. Expressive, deeply brown, almost black eyes that reflected longing and apprehension in one. Equally dark, wavy hair, slightly matted from the helmet, framed the so familiar face. Looking into those incredibly open eyes, he saw emotions that reflected his own, that mirrored insecurities and doubt, but also showed a love he had only ever heard in his voice.

And he realized Din Djarin had been afraid; was still afraid.

 _Of what?_ he thought, reeling from the sight before him. Rejection? How could Corin reject him when he knew him already? And he did. This changed nothing at all and never would.

Corin reached out and ran his fingers over the unshaven face, as if he was still blindfolded, unable to see what he was touching. Without meaning to, he closed his eyes, the sensation still the same. He felt the so very familiar lines. It was weird that he now had an image he could attach to the sensation.

Din leaned into the contact, seeking more.

Corin opened his eyes and smiled. Happily. Probably looking like an idiot, but he couldn't help it.

"Hello," he managed, that giddy feeling spreading through him almost making him laugh.

This was his Mandalorian. This was Din Djarin! And he was looking at him, without repercussions, without the fear that he would not be considered a Mandalorian anymore.

He couldn't stop expressing his happiness, the way he felt.

Dimples formed as Din smiled back almost shyly. His eyes were amazingly expressive, showing so much, promising so much more. He had never seen anyone with such openness.

Because Din Djarin had never shown his face to anyone ever again after he had put on the helmet. It meant he didn't have to hide his emotions, except in his voice. And he was a pro at being completely unreadable and barely saying a word most of the time.

"Hello," was the low answer.

He wondered if one could fall in love all over again. With the dimples of one's husband.

Looking into the warm eyes, the handsome face, he closed the last bit of physical distance, hands never leaving Din's face. Up close those eyes looked even darker, almost black, wide and full of wonder. So open. So very, very open.

It was a soft kiss. More like a tentative first foray into a whole new world. Gentle, a greeting, a welcome, a reassurance, and it sealed a final step between them that had started to very long ago.

"I love you," Corin whispered against those well-known lips.

"I love you," Din echoed, voice hiding nothing.

He had known the Mandalorian had an expressive face, a face of someone who had never had to hide his emotions because he was always protected by a helmet. It was a face of a man who wore his heart on his sleeve when he dropped his guard.

They simply stood together, kissing, almost like getting to know the other once more. Soft and tender at first, tongues slowly exploring already well known territory, but discovering something new each time. The kiss became more, deeper and more fierce, until a more trivial need made them pull back to simply breathe again.

Corin's heart was hammering in his chest, his whole body feeling wired. When Din slipped a hand underneath his shirt, he nearly jumped. Din's soft chuff of laughter had him shiver, heat curling deep within, need and hunger rising.

Clothes were shed, but not frantically tearing them off. Actually, there was no frenzy, just… a sudden peaceful calm, filled with even gentler explorations.

It was almost like a first time. And still it was all so familiar, so comfortable, with no pressure and no words. Close contact. Reassurance. Emotions given freely. Exploring the hard body of the other man, listening to the sounds he made, reacting to those needs.

Corin had seen that athletic form before, treating injuries, tracing scars, but this, here, was completely new nevertheless. Especially since he got to see more than a bare back or chest. A lot more.

It was the first time he saw Din's face as he came, hard, reeling from the very surge of emotions, from the hunger he still felt, from the need to be so much closer.

Something bloomed inside him, something powerful and warm and overwhelming.

There was an expression of wonder and joy on the man's so open features, one that floored Corin and had him whisper his name over and over.

He had woken early. Not because of a noise or sound from outside. Not because he had sensed an intrusion. He had simply come awake, no longer tired, and he had remained in bed, listening to the soft breaths coming from his partner. Corin; his husband.

Din had woken to the feeling of safety, warmth and completion. In that order. It was still new for him. Everything was… completely in balance. Din Djarin had never felt this calm and collected.

He studied the naked man with him in bed. They did that a lot, lying together, running hands over the other’s skin, but never before had Corin been without the blindfold. It was amazing. It was incredible. Din had grown addicted to the easy contact, to the warmth in those bright eyes, the way the slender form moved with him, moved for him, under him, above him… the way Corin was at his side, no matter what.

Now those blue eyes, dark with spent pleasure and unfiltered emotions, met his own.

Din nuzzled the soft throat, kissing him gently, not trying to arouse. His fingers brushed over Corin's side, his hip, his thigh. They finally came to rest on the jagged scars on his stomach. Scars had remained of the terrible injury that had nearly killed the one person who had touched him deeper than anyone else ever before or after.

"You're going hunt for them. You want to hunt them."

The Mandalorian looked at his husband, startled. Corin gave him a faint, knowing smile. He leaned over the completely relaxed man, taking in the eyes that reflected so much. Blue eyes that he had never seen while they had been together. Eyes he really couldn't get enough of.

He placed the palm of his hand flat on the other's stomach, over the scar, finger tips feeling the uneven skin.

"They won't stop looking," he finally said.

"No. What about… his kind?"

There was a faint note of fear in Corin's voice. Din felt a new kind of tension creep through his shoulders, settle at the base of his neck, and he sat up.

His kind. The child's kind. Not his species, no. The ones with the same abilities.

The _Jetii_.

The ones who could train him, show him what to do with his abilities. On the other hand, the child was quite capable already, needed only a few pointers, understand right and wrong. Corin had been working with him a lot, and then there was the entity. It taught him in its own way and the child had flourished.

"He is our clan," he finally stated firmly. "He is our child."

Corin sat up, too, the blanket pooling in his lap. Din's eyes flitted over the bare chest, a sight he had seen countless times before but didn't really grow tired of.

"Yes, he is ours. His kind is out there, though."

"I won't look for them. Unless I have to."

Corin tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. "His powers are something we cannot understand."

"He's doing fine." There was an edge to his voice. "I don't want some Jedi to waltz in here and take him away."

The Mandalorian felt something inside of him rise, something sharp and primal, something incredibly protective, at the mere thought of giving up his foundling.

"He is force-sensitive, Din. He might one day need a teacher who can help him."

Corin sounded incredibly reasonable, laying out the facts. If not for the pained expression, the very real emotions in his eyes, Din would have believed him.

"He's learning about what he can do, about control and precision. Here."

Because of a creature that was everywhere around them and which was apparently aware of this Force, this energy field. A gigantic organism that actively communicated with their child, that taught him.

"I'm not going to actively look for Jedi," Din added coldly. "Ever."

He thought he heard a faint rumble, deep within his mind, a brief empathic touch that told him it was a good decision; the right decision.

"Family is more than blood."

Corin's smile was proud and unwavering. " _Aliit ori'shya tal'din_ ," he agreed. "And you won't hunt for the original client on your own, either."

"Corin…"

"No." The voice was soft, but it left no room for argument. It held a core of steel that rivaled beskar. "We are clan. Family. You're not going to leave us here, waiting for you, wondering how you are. I might not be Mandalorian, but I'm a soldier. I know the business side of a gun and I can handle a knife!"

And Din had trained him, had shown him more than just a few tricks. Corin had soaked it all up, had trained hard, and he was a really good shot.

"We are in this together," Corin told him.

He looked at his husband, took in the confident, proud stance, the air of assurance and strength. This was what had been underneath, what was truly Corin.

"We are one. Together," he echoed.

Din had no plans to leave right away. He wanted to look for whoever had placed that bounty, had sent the Guild after a child, who had taken so many lives and was responsible for so much death and pain.

But not today.

Not tomorrow either.

Corin leaned over and kissed him.

Wrapping an arm around the bare waist of the other man, he let himself fall back onto the mattress, taking Corin with him. Corin chuckled, eagerly continuing the kissing session.

A small warble had both men come apart, heads turning to look at the toddler standing in the, now open, door of the bedroom. The child stood there, ears perked, looking cheerful. It was holding some dried food, probably fruit, and was watching with interest and approval.

"Womp rat," Din muttered, not unkindly, those dimples showing as he smiled.

The child cooed again and stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth. The Mandalorian groaned. Corin snickered and dropped his head against Din's shoulder, his own quivering with the suppressed laugher.

Well, alone time was over.

Especially after their little charge managed to climb up onto the bed with a triumphant chirp.

"You," Corin said, highly amused, "need to learn when to respect your parents' private time.

There was a cheerful burble.

"Yeah, we gotta work on that."


	27. Chapter 27

Communication with the giant plant organism had improved, which had in turn smoothed the way of how they interacted with it. The Mandalorian was convinced it was because of the child, who had no second thoughts about interacting with whatever manifested of the creature.

Corin had had a long, serious talk with their kid about wandering off into the jungle after it had happened one time too many, which had nearly given the man a heart attack.

The child had listened, expression just as serious, clearly aware what he had done wrong. He had looked properly chastised.

What had nearly stopped Din's heart was when Corin had turned to the plant at the child's side, giving it a piece of his mind, completely disregarding the muzzle of jagged teeth and the sharp vines curling everywhere.

"You are an idiot," he told his husband when they were alone.

"Hm?"

"You berated a whole planet."

"It's our kid! His safety!"

"He is safe wherever he goes."

Corin glared at him. "But we should at least know when he goes off to play in the jungle with the jungle from the jungle!"

Din wondered if he could love this man more than he already did. This fearless idiot who risked his own life to protect his family without second thought. He had been shot, beaten, kidnapped, drugged, verbally and physically abused, and he had survived it all. Only to face down a planet. A planet!

The empathic shiver that touched them was filled with understanding and something the Mandalorian's brain translated as an apology.

Corin looked suddenly a bit stunned, then sheepish. "Uhm," he mumbled. "Okay. So… I overreacted?"

Sonsos agreed, but not unkindly. Din had to smile, the smile thankfully hidden by the helmet. The way Corin glared at him, he knew it was there.

He exhaled. "Alright. But I still want to know!" he stated. "I was worried!"

The Mandalorian pulled him into a brief kiss, forehead against forehead.

"I love you," he said.

Corin blinked. "Hn?" he managed.

He almost laughed at the dumbfounded uttering. It was amazing how easy it was to fluster Corin, to surprise him with emotional declarations, as if he didn’t expect them.

"You are the best parent the child could have."

"You mean aside from his deadly, kick-ass Mandalorian father?"

He chuckled. "I love you," he repeated.

Corin's features softened. "I love you," he echoed.

"And you told off Sonsos."

His husband blinked. Then it suddenly settled in. Corin whirled around and stared at the large muzzle not far from them, the vicious grin only enhanced when the maw opened, displaying the long tongue.

"Oh…" he murmured faintly.

The entity radiated amusement.

"This would get lesser men eaten," Din added wryly.

"I…"

The plant huffed, then closed the large maw with an audible snap.

Yes, Din Djarin loved this man.

And he was happy.

It was such a sudden and unexpected realization, the Mandalorian felt his breath catch and his heart miss a beat.

He was happy. Here. On this remote planet, without his clan. He was happy to just have a life with his family, peaceful, without chasing a bounty, without fear, without regret. He didn't have to go off world, hunt down whoever had a bounty on their head to earn credits.

He felt… calm. At peace. There was no urgency at all. He had always lived by the Creed, had provided for the Covert, had hunted and been hunted. He had bled, had suffered pain and loneliness, until the day he had laid eyes on a child with an insanely high bounty on its head.

Now he had his own clan. He had a husband. He had a foundling in his care, his child. His clan.

He belonged. Here.

He gathered up the child, who had been watching attentively, and prodded Corin to come along. His husband was rather shell-shocked, probably by his own courage.

"I'm an idiot," Corin murmured when they were home.

"Not saying no to that."

The child cooed, then warbled as the Mandalorian held out a frozen treat to him. It was something a vendor sold in the settlement and he had quickly found that mashed up berries and water, frozen into finger-sized pieces, were not only tasty, the child loved them.

"I've told you before, you have the self-preservation of a bark mite."

The child was suckling on the treat, looking rather pleased.

"I was just worried."

He closed the distance and cupped his husband's neck, squeezing gently. "I know. So am I. Always."

Corin exhaled sharply, then nodded. "And if he waddles off into the jungle, he will be safe."

"Yes."

He always would be.

*

Their relationship with Sonsos started to expand, getting smoother and clearer. It also became apparent that the kid was trying to mirror the way the organism established contact, using his abilities to 'talk' to both Corin and Din.

Neither man heard words, but something was there. It was like learning a new language and it needed patience and time.

Now and then the empathic waves were clear and precise, especially when basic emotions were concerned. Sometimes it was just… pressure.

Corin was determined to learn with the child, adapt to its way of communicating and teaching it to form words, too. The managed the first, but the latter was proving difficult, no matter if he used Basic or Mando'a.

"His vocal cords might not be developed enough," he said one evening as they sat on the porch, enjoying the mild air, the cloudy sunset. "He does understand to a degree. It simply won't come out."

The Mandalorian nodded. "Maybe his species doesn't use vocal communication. He is force-sensitive. Maybe they all are."

Corin's brows drew down. "I never considered that. Might be that they all are and use the Force to talk to each other."

"I don't know anything about the Force."

It got him a brief smirk. "You think I do? I'm really winging it."

"And you're doing a good job. We don't know his past, his species, anything about him other than that he's able to do things no child his age should be capable of."

"Like I said: winging it."

But it worked. Like so many things had in the past.

Since it had become part of their lives, Din had taken the Razor Crest on several fly-overs of the jungle planet. What they had seen when they had returned from Nevarro was true for the whole planet: jungle everywhere, with rivers and lakes, no ocean at all, and sometimes a few 'bald' spots. Sonsos was more of a dwarf planet, sure, but to think that all of this down there was interconnected and formed one huge creature was still mind-boggling.

They had chosen one of the clearings to land and the child had almost run down the ship's ramp, clearly excited.

The plants growing here were similar to the ones Din had already seen, but he also saw some new ones, most of them flowering in bright colors, attracting insects and the occasional bird. The child watched the birds with interest, burbling to itself.

Corin was keeping a close eye on their little charge. "Nice," he remarked.

"It's the jungle," the Mandalorian said, head tilted a little.

It got him a grin. "A different part of the jungle."

"Still jungle."

There was a happy chirp and Din rolled his eyes behind the visor.

"Someone's having fun," Corin said wryly.

Yes, someone was. The child had been lifted by muscular looking leafs that carefully cradled him like in a baby seat. A large, white flower shaped like a bell with ragged edges that were lined in bright blue had leaned down and the child was cheerfully tugging at the fragile looking plant. Now and then the flower shook itself, like some house pet, and Din felt the amused rumble of the entity in his mind.

They left before nightfall, the child sleepy, cradled in Corin's arms. Neither Din nor Corin felt comfortable enough to spend the night in the wilds, even if 'the wilds' were the same everywhere.

It became a regular occurrence to seek out clearings and explore. Corin made a map and discovered that old clearings disappeared and new ones were offered as landing spots.

They were shown a waterfall that excited the child and had Corin run after him before the little one could fall into the water.

The child couldn't swim, but the small lake at the bottom of the waterfall had shallow areas, so he splashed around in there until he was soaked through.

"We're getting to know the place," Corin said as he toweled himself off.

The Mandalorian leaned against the wall of the cargo bay, watching. "Yes."

He slipped on a fresh, dry shirt. "Probably more deeply than others."

"Yes."

He raised an eyebrow.

It got him a cocked head.

"Right," he sighed.

They went up into the cockpit and Corin sat the child into its own child seat. The Razor Crest took off and Corin saw the jungle close over the clearing, erasing every trace of their presence.

It should be disturbing.

Somehow, it wasn't.

*

Corin was watching the child work with his powers, small face scrunched up in concentration, hand outstretched as it trained precision and using the Force in small doses. Right now it was holding back a massive vine that was trying to twist closer, pushing against a shield the little one had erected. Now and then the huge appendage lashed out and crashed against the force field. It felt like the whole ground was shaking with the impact and Corin was slightly worried.

The vine was gigantic, easily big enough to crush the Razor Crest by its weight alone, and it strained against the shield, seeking ways to shatter it. The attack had been going on for a while now and Corin was rather proud of how the child adapted to the powerful blows.

A second one suddenly rose from behind, bristling and razor-sharp, then a third, then another, and Corin felt a jolt of fear at the change. He started to move before his brain had even made up the thought.

It was then the child gave a little gasp and suddenly stumbled back, the shield breaking, and the vines shot forward in a twisting, weaving green mass. There was a screeching, hissing noise, a wave of something he couldn't identify and Corin lunged for his child by instinct, a cry of denial on his lips. He protectively wrapped himself around the exhausted kid without a second thought, making them as small a target as possible.

Nothing happened. No impact, no pain, nothing.

There was a whisper of movement after a long moment, a feather-light touch against his bowed back, sliding over his exposed neck. A wave of reassurance followed, an empathic touch so gentle, it belied how massive the organism really was. It was accompanied by a rather mystified air, as if Sonsos wasn't really sure why Corin had done what he had done.

The child cooed tiredly, eyes almost closed. Small fingers curled around Corin's own.

He was okay, he realized. The kid, him, they were both okay.

Raising his head a little, he looked around.

The largest vine was hovering over them, twisting and corkscrewing, radiating something close to… confusion? Another crawled toward him, forming a head with less teeth than usual. A soft snarl could be heard, but it was more quizzical than aggressive. It weaved closer, almost as if to nose at him. All around them, the vines formed a pulsating, quivering mass, now slowly quieting down.

A new tendril worked out of the ground, very slowly reaching out to him and, when he didn't flinch back, curled around his wrist, splitting from one to five fingers. It squeezed slightly, gently, to reassure.

The empathic sensation still mirrored the gesture, enveloping him like a blanket. There had never been any danger, it projected. They were safe and always would be.

For a moment Corin felt like he was touching more than just this small extension of the massive organism. It was a gigantic network of tendrils everywhere, fine connections branching off, reaching out all over this world, ever-present, ever-watchful. And he experienced a dizzying vastness, endless energy, spread everywhere, seeing it, the way it connected everything, the way some could manipulate that energy.

Like the child.

Corin shuddered.

It was a void, a vortex, swallowing whatever came too close.

And the sensation was gone. The grip around his wrist was still there.

::Apologies. You are in no danger:: brushed over his mind. A feather light touch.

He nearly yelped. Words! It had… words! It talked! In words! He sat up, the child in his arms out like a light, and scrambled away from the muzzled vine. His back collided with more plants and Corin's breathing quickened. He stared at the huge head that had followed him, all tentacles and fangs. It was peering down at him out of non-existent eyes.

Something flickered over him.

"You…?"

::Learning::

Not words, really. More like his mind interpreting something the entity sent and that ended up as words. It was learning through the child, being taught as much as teaching the kid about its powers. It learned through interacting with Corin and the Mandalorian. It taught them in turn, their minds adjusting to this form of communication and contact. It prodded them into the right direction while equally meeting them half way.

"You understand the Force," Corin said out loud, reeling from the shock. "You… you are part of it?"

::There is only energy::

"And you can sense energy?"

::Everyone can. Like you::

"Me?"

Tendrils formed and brushed along his arm, his wrist, his hand. The vine squeezed gently, confirming the statement. The touch was light but possessive… inquiring... curious…

"But I'm not force-sensitive!" he argued.

::Energy is everywhere. Everyone touches it. It touches everyone. Let me show…::

Sight, sound, touch… everything was suddenly heightened and he saw what he suspected only a trained Jedi might. The sensation was amazing and frightening in one. Corin was briefly witness to the energy field that bound all together; the Force, or whatever it was called in the different corners of the galaxy. It was everywhere, touched everything, and everything touched it.

Dizzy, Corin leaned back against the solid wall of vines. The sharp muzzle was almost eye-level now and he just about kept himself from petting it like would a curious kios' nose.

"This… is…?"

::Yes::

"And our child can see it?"

::Touch it. Shape it::

Not many could see it, but it was aware of every single life form. The ones born force-sensitive could use it, manipulate it, use it for good or bad. Others might be aware, but unable to use it. And so many had no idea. And then there was a fourth category.

::You:: the entity whispered.

Unaware of it, but receptive. Unable to use it, but very much part of the energy field. Null-zones in the vastness of energy; areas of absolute peace, perfectly able to anchor a force-sensitive. Not just any force-sensitive, but the one who had bonded to them.

"Bonded? The child bonded… to Din? Me?"

::The moment they met. It is an old bond. Created in a moment, strengthened through time. Your presence added to your partner's null-zone. You both give him balance. He is very powerful. He needs this balance; he needs you::

Corin inhaled sharply, a tremor running through him. He concentrated on the touch of his wrist, on the child sleeping in his arms. His incredibly, magnificently powerful child. So young, just a baby.

::Both of you are important to him. Both of you are his shields. Your body can feel the energy that surrounds us. Your soul can touch it. You cannot ever use it, but you are a part of it::

The child mumbled eyes cracking open to look at him. It cooed sleepily, but it looked happy. Small fingers reached out and Corin automatically held them. He was flooded by love, by warmth and trust. The child regarded him steadily, pushing it at him, telling him the truth.

"I… I'm not… I'm no Jedi!" he stuttered.

The entity confirmed it, radiating a certain amusement. Jedi weren't a species. They were part of an order. It also confirmed that Din wasn't able to use the force either. Being a null-zone meant that they couldn't, even if they trained.

The child had known Din Djarin the moment their eyes had met. Back then it had been only the bounty, the asset, but they had connected and fate had started its game. With Corin, the strength of the anchor had increased, had allowed the baby to grow in its abilities, protected and loved.

Corin stared at the tired little face. "So I'm not force-sensitive?" he murmured, stroking a gentle finger over the soft brow.

The child chirped.

::No::

He blinked. "But I help him?"

The entity confirmed it. They both did. They gave him the stability to learn and grow, to fully access his potential and not be overwhelmed or kill himself either mentally or physically.

::Old, rare abilities. Long lost and forgotten as the Jedi emerged::

"But… but… we're… just…"

::You are what he needs::

"You are the one who teaches him! I only ever talked him through what I thought might be helpful!"

The entity seemed to flow around him, navigating within the Force like an endless cloud. Amusement radiated off it, as well as reassurance. They had done everything right. They had never failed him.

They didn't have to go looking for Jedi, came the addition, the emotions accompanying those thoughts darker, less positive.

Jedi were able to perceive the ancient creature that was Sonsos, but they weren't welcome. The mind-touch showed Corin how there had been Jedi visiting this planet before. It weren't words that told the stories, it were simply… memories conveyed through emotions, shaped into what his brain could interpret.

The Jedi had been here, but they didn't or wouldn't understand the organism. They saw it as a vastness within the Force and while they had opened their minds to the Force's energy, they were closed to what this entity was. They were aware of the life form on this planet, but it was diffuse, too faint in places, and the plant had never actively sought to contact them either. Corin and Din were passive receptive, open to communication, open to the empathic touch.

That was also why they were welcome here. That was why they belonged.

"The others?" Corin asked curiously, mind whirling with all the new information.

::Tolerated:: He could hear it whisper, could feel it touch his very soul, and it made him shiver.

Because they respected Sonsos. They didn't take what the planet wasn't ready to share. They were allowed within the boundaries Sonsos showed them. Some had come and gone quickly, others had stayed longer, and some very few had been here for quite some time.

Uhm."

The vine disappeared into the ground and Corin just sat there, digesting all he had heard. The child moved sleepily, too exhausted to do much more than snuggle deeper into his arms.

"I have no idea what this all means, little one, but I know we're not letting anyone get you," he promised. "Least of all some Jedi."

The child mumbled, the empathic touch barely there, but Corin felt it. He smiled warmly.

The Mandalorian seemed to take it all in a stride. Maybe, after everything that had happened in the months they had been here, almost a planetary year actually, Corin should do the same. Go with the flow. Don't think too deeply about it.

Acceptance.

Of undisputable facts.

It had happened. It was there. It couldn't be changed. There was no danger and no one got hurt.

"It's nothing that changes what we are," Din said out loud, confirming his thoughts. "Correct?" He raised his eyebrows.

Corin met the dark eyes. "It's just… new."

"Everything is new when it comes to this foundling. There was never anyone like him before." Din removed the last of his armor. "We have no abilities of our own."

"Well… yes and no."

"It's a 'no'. We have no force-related abilities."

Corin wanted to argue, but the Mandalorian was right. They were the same as before. Nothing had changed. It was nothing they could affect by training or just, well, waving their fingers.

Din removed his helmet. It was always the last to go. He smiled at Corin, eyebrows rising, warmth in his eyes, so open and young. Corin loved the expressive eyes. A lot. More than he could probably ever put into words.

"We haven't gained any kind of abilities, Corin," he repeated, voice so reasonable and calm.

That was his Mandalorian. Show him something incredibly new and he took it in a stride. He would analyze a situation from a tactical point of view, whether it was dangerous to his health and safety or simply a nuisance, or if it was actually helpful or to his advantage. He had been travelling with a force-sensitive child who had used its powers repeatedly a lot longer than Corin. A child that was probably almost twice as old as him. A child who could heal, could lift things several hundred times its own weight, and create force shields.

He had been there for all of it.

There had never been a moment of doubt or second-guessing; always the assured air, the confidence in his abilities, and the goal he was following.

Corin envied that mind-set sometimes.

No, Din Djarin wasn't perfect, but he dealt with life differently.

"We can talk to a planet!" he drove home his last argument. Just because… it was something he had been thinking about. "A planet!"

"An organism that is large, but not the planet itself."

He rolled his eyes, noticed the teasing light in Din's eyes, the way his lips twitched. He wanted to hit him or kiss him. Or both.

"A planet-sized organism! Something no one has ever communicated with before, but we can, Din! We!"

Because that had been on his mind a lot. Trying to understand what Sonsos really was, the size, the intelligence, the age. It all went way over his head and yet he couldn't let it go. He wanted to understand something his tiny brain might not be able to ever grasp.

The Mandalorian closed the distance between them and kissed his brow, the gesture so unexpected, so strangely intimate, it had Corin’s thoughts stumble to a hold. A screeching, sudden hold.

"We can hear Sonsos because the entity has learned to adjust to us. It has learned because of the child." Din gave him this endlessly patient look, mixed in his with amusement and gentle teasing. "We can communicate because it wants to. It could have stayed quiet. It tolerates everyone who lives here, never talked to them, but we were approached. It fought for us, Corin."

He chewed on his lower lip, thoughtful.

"Nothing has changed," the Mandalorian insisted.

So easy. So simple. Din kissed him.

The man was sometimes completely unflappable. Like right now.

At least when it came such cold, hard facts. Emotions were another matter and Corin had learned that the badass Mandalorian warrior was as emotional as anyone; as him.

"We've been adopted," he mumbled against Din's lips.

It got him a soft grunt.

He carded his fingers through the dark hair, enjoying the feeling, the freedom he had to do it. He finger-combed the silky waves, smiling as Din's eyes closed in bliss. No one had ever done this to him or for him before; Corin was allowed to experience so many firsts with his husband, it sometimes felt like a dream.

"You okay with it?" Din asked after a long time.

"Hm," Corin hummed.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Din kissed him. "Nothing has changed," he repeated.

And yet, so much.


	28. Chapter 28

It was a surprise to get the call over a confidential channel and the Mandalorian checked the verification codes twice.

They were correct.

Still, as the ship touched down both he and Corin were armed and the child was safely at home. He felt a thrum go through the earth, the entity primed and ready in case of danger, and part of him relaxed at the thought of their back-up. Even if this was a trick and the codes had been stolen, whoever meant them harm would be in for a very nasty welcome.

A plant pushed out of the ground, corkscrewing to about six feet in height and forming a sightless head. As someone who was very familiar with the plants by now, the Mandalorian saw the faint lines that hinted at a closed maw, ready to snap open.

The two Mandalorians stepping out of the ship had Corin stiffen, drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders unconsciously, ready for a confrontation. Din Djarin didn't think it would come to any physical altercation, but he was wary nevertheless.

Paz Vizla never did anything without reason and their past encounters had always been accompanied with a low-level aggression and posturing.

"This really is the darkest recess of a bantha's furry ass," Vizla rumbled as he looked around. "It's not even on official star maps."

"And yet, here you are."

"Official business."

"Nice," Paz's companion added.

Din inclined his head in greeting. "Why have you come?"

"No welcome?" Raga teased. "No 'nice to see you'? No 'how have you been'?"

He stared at her, silent, refusing to fall into the banter. There was a reason those two had left Nevarro instead of sending a message. They had travelled quite a distance to get here and he doubted it was for social niceties, which Vizsla didn't do.

Paz chuckled. "Any place where we can talk, other than out in the open?"

Corin looked as neutral as they came, but the tight lines around his eyes and the thinned lips told Din more than words. Still, it was custom for clan to invite clan, and the tribe was always welcome.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the plant turn its head.

So did the two visitors.

"What the…?!" Raga exclaimed, already reaching for her weapon.

Paz had his own heavy duty blaster drawn.

"No!" Corin exclaimed and held out a hand to stop them. "Don't! No shooting! Or knives or any kind of weapons! It's… like a guard. It's…"

Din knew he wanted to say 'not dangerous', but the entity was absolutely dangerous and lethal.

"It's okay," Corin simply said.

"Okay? You call that thing okay?" Paz demanded.

"Yes."

The visored eyes met steely blue ones, took in the squared shoulders, the tense muscles.

"It's Sonsos."

Paz wheezed. "What?!"

A vine crawled closer and the plant opened the maw in a vicious, cold grin with way too many teeth. Way, way too many. And all were serrated and lethally sharp.

Corin knew what this was.

A warning. A display of strength and power.

Vizla snarled a curse.

"This… this lives here?" Raga asked, sounding rather shocked.

"Yes. Everywhere."

The taut lines of her body showed her barely controlled reaction to that. "What do you mean, everywhere?"

Corin made a gesture to encompass 'everywhere'. As if to add to his gesture, another plant pushed out of the ground, riddled with sharp spikes. Tendrils curled around it, some more snaking over the ground. One twisted over the ground and rose behind Corin like a vicious guard, smoothly developing a maw with elongated incisors and rows of needle-like teeth.

It hissed.

"That's why there are a hundred different warnings," Raga whispered. "About this tiny pebble of a planet. I thought it was a little over the top. Sarlacc pits have less mortal danger signs!"

And this wasn't just a pit. And not a Sarlacc, which was a horror all of its own.

Din felt the raw emotions of the sentient plant all around them, veiled aggression, cautious curiosity, mixed in with interest and protective instinct. He had the brief image of hundreds of tendrils weaving underneath the ground, ready to erupt and ground the ship, as well as incapacitate the threat.

"It takes badly to… threats," he said out loud.

"We can see that," Raga replied cautiously.

Paz snorted.

Sonsos stayed watchful, but quiet. It followed the Mandalorians’ every move, though.

Din led the visitors back to the farm house, aware of the creature's continued interest in their presence. Corin brought up the rear, a few steps behind Raga, silent and watchful. While he didn't think the planet would attack without provocation, he was careful. And he was projecting the same at the entity. Sonsos didn't reply, but he felt the heavy weight of its attention on them.

Whatever it felt through its connection to the energy field all around them, it didn't reassure the plant life-form that this was just a friendly visit.

"Nice," Raga repeated when approached the house. "You really made a home for your clan here."

A happy chirp had Din roll his eyes behind his visor. The child had, of course, gotten out of the house and was standing on the porch. It looked cheerful, not the least bit wary, and it even waved when Raga did the same in greeting.

"He hasn't grown at all," Vizla commented.

"He's only fifty years old," Din told him dryly. “Give him time.”

That had the much larger Mandalorian stare at him as if daring to tell him that was really the truth. Din regarded him steadily. Corin tried not to laugh.

"Damn," Raga only said wryly.

The child gurgled cheerfully as she picked him up, clutching her finger as she tickled his belly.

"He's cute. Absolutely cute. Doesn't come after his father."

"Why are you here?" he asked again, ignoring her teasing.

"The Armorer sent us. A personal message that we didn't want anyone to intercept. The bounty on the little guy's head has been lifted. The Guild is officially out."

Corin's eyes widened. "What?! How?" he blurted.

"We came to an arrangement," Paz Vizla said. "Between the Guild and the Covert."

Din felt his mind stall. "How?" he echoed Corin's question.

"Nevarro was overrun by Imperial garbage. It really crimped the Guild's style, impeded their livelihood. Greef Karga had a problem, we solved it." Raga audibly smirked. "The deal was to kick their asses in exchange for clearing your name with the Guild, lifting the bounty, and leaving the Covert alone."

Din felt shock flash through him. They had done what? For him? For his child? He had endangered the Covert and they had… they had done his for him?

"Don't think we only did it for you," Vizla rumbled. "We also did it for us. We are done hiding. We showed them what we are, that we aren't a dead people!" Paz laughed darkly. "They had an Imp problem and we took care of it. We erased every trace of their Imperial hides. Their helmets now adorn the stakes. Better theirs than ours, right?"

Corin's expression was frozen, he barely twitched a muscle, hands clenching into fists, and Din knew what was running through the other man's mind. He could almost feel it, the mixture of pain and despair, the relief that the child was no longer hunted by the Guild, but also the knowledge that people like him had died.

Din Djarin had learned a lot since the day he had brought the Stormtrooper aboard. He had never given their backgrounds any thought, had believed them to be fanatics of a failed Empire. Corin had opened his eyes to the fact that some of them were no different than other soldiers. They needed the job, they had families, they wanted to survive.

Like Corin.

Who had been lucky.

And right now he wanted to punch Vizla so hard he would forget the day of his adoption!

"We have a deal with Karga," Paz went on, clearly not as oblivious to what his words had done than some might think. "An alliance of sorts."

"You can't trust him," Din said automatically.

"Who says we do? But the man was desperate." Vizla audibly smirked. "We wipe the Imps off Nevarro, he lifts the bounty. Any Guild member foolish enough to hunt your child won't get a single credit. Your client's… gone."

"Too bad we didn't get the head Imp," Raga added darkly. "Fled like the coward he is!"

Which meant the child was still in danger from whoever was after him, but at least the Guild hunters were out of the picture. Freelancers would always be looking for a good deal, but Sonsos was far, far off the radar.

"It helped that whatever went down here took out some of the Guild," Raga went on. She set down the child as the little guy struggled to be let go of. He toddled over to his father. "Karga knew you two wiped out half a dozen bounty hunters and some more Imps. No one knows where you are, but everyone heard about the fight. Some stories are rather… embellished, but it serves a cause. Did you really take on a squad of Deathtroopers?"

"No." Which was the truth. The entity had.

The thrum that went through his system told him that it was clearly listening in.

“No?” Paz echoed.

“We didn’t. Sonsos did.”

Something shifted through him, feeling heavy and intense. A vine crawled up a fence post. It had a rather bright green and blue shading. For some reason Din thought it was so colorful on purpose.

"That's freaky," Raga commented.

He shrugged. It was normal by now. He had more or less gotten used to a sentient plant creature that was everywhere, that was clearly interested in his child, that apparently helped the little guy develop his abilities, and which had a very intense protective streak.

“The planet?!” Vizla clarified, sounding rather shocked.

“The planet. It’s… The entity that is Sonsos is very much… aware.”

Raga muttered a curse in Mando’a.

The child cooed and looked up at them.

"The Covert will stay?" he asked as he picked him up, diverting the topic away from what Sonsos really was.

The organism was still watching them with single-minded attention, the presence felt like a light pressure to the back of his neck, sometimes brushing over his forehead. It was as to yet undecided what to think of the newcomers.

"Yes. Nevarro is still a Guild haven, but now with a Mandalorian presence in the open, claiming their place again," Paz declared proudly. "As it should be. It is our home. We won’t be hiding in the dark any longer!”

Corin’s expression was guarded, but his eyes spoke lengths. Din could see it, could see the agile mind digesting the information, aware what it meant.

“It’s dangerous,” his husband said slowly, carefully. "Just because you beat back the Imperial remnants won't stop them from coming again."

“We are Mandalorians!” Vizla growled.

“You laugh in the face of danger?”

“Damn right!” The large man leaned down, helmet almost right in Corin’s face. “ _Mando'ad draar digu!_ – A Mandalorian never forgets! We’ll squash them!”

“Which is why you were in hiding all the time?”

Din wanted to strangle him. He was proud of his husband for not cowing, for not hunching his shoulders and trying to disappear into the background. Corin had grown so much, had become self-confident. Enough to face off against Paz Vizla, it seemed.

Paz stared at him, then chuffed a laugh. “You really got guts, _aruetii_."

And now he wanted to shoot Vizla. The word alone had Din’s hackles up and his temper boiling. Part of him whispered that this was Vizsla trying to get a rise out of him, reminding him of the last lesson he taught. Another snarled that this was going too far.

The leather of his gloves creaked.

“You might want to think about presenting yourselves on a silver platter,” Corin remarked neutrally, not even flinching at the name.

Din followed his lead, reigning in his instinctual reaction to punch something; preferably the face plate that covered Vizla's face. Corin wasn't weak; he could hold his own, was sometimes the more level-headed, but he was also the one whose emotional wounds were still too recent. Din had his own flashbacks now and then, but they didn't invade his mind or make him freeze in dangerous situations.

“You pushed the Imperial remnants off Nevarro, but now they know you exist. They’ll hunt you down just because you caused trouble. If not today, then someday in the future.”

“Got experience with that?” he taunted.

“I have experience in keeping my head down because I caused trouble one time too many,” was the icy reply. “Something you should learn."

Paz leaned forward, towering over the other man. “Yeah, so you got your wrist slapped. Big deal.”

Corin's eyes were suddenly like chips of ice, his face closed off. A cheek muscle jumped. "Just because my father was a high-ranking Imperial doesn’t mean I was off limits.”

And damn, that sounded like it hurt to talk. Corin’s voice was low, flat, emotionless, almost automatic.

Din’s alarms were ringing shrilly. He stared at his husband, took in the rigid way he held himself, how devoid of emotions his whole face was, and he knew something had just been dragged out in the open that Corin would have preferred to keep buried.

The child made a quizzical noise, looking up at Corin, who just picked it up and walked away.

The Mandalorian glared at the heavy infantry warrior. “I will shoot you if you say one more word, Vizla,” he growled. "I would be within my right to shoot you right now!"

Paz grunted, non-committal. Raga pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against. With a brief nod at Din, she walked after Corin.

Djarin let her. Right now he wanted to keep the other Mandalorian as far away from Corin as possible. He had no idea what exactly Paz’s words had triggered, but it had triggered something bad. Something he would get out of his husband later.

When Paz stepped forward, Din gave in to his emotions and rammed his fist into the other man's helmet.

It smarted. A lot. But the grunt and the way Paz stumbled back also gave him a lot of satisfaction.


	29. Chapter 29

Corin hadn't gone far. He wasn't running, just putting some distance between himself and Vizla before he did something he would most definitely regret. Hitting a fully armored Mandalorian would get him a broken hand and maybe more.

No, just walk away.

Cool off.

Calm down.

He knew Raga had followed them and he put the child down, letting the little one search for something to play with.

“I can’t say he didn’t mean it, but Vizla shoots first and if you’re lucky, he thinks later.”

Corin snorted.

"He's an asshole. Some of us can be, especially the ones who believe in growth through confrontation and conflict. It's not much of an apology," Raga added. "He likes to poke at where it hurts the most. He sees it as training."

"You don't have to apologize for him."

She watched the child as it entertained itself with something he had found.

"I'm not. Paz has a way to get under your skin. He's the most direct person I've ever met and that's saying something."

"I noticed."

"You can't let it get to you. Emotions can get you killed, Corin."

"I know. I know where he's coming from. It's not no different than what the Imperial academy uses. Psychological warfare."

Raga studied him, head tilted, hands loosely resting on her weapon's belt. "Even for drones?"

It didn't even hurt when she said it. Didn't get a single stab of pain, of discomfort. It was something Corin had come to terms with.

"Even for drones."

And that's what he had been. Big name, important family, and a son who was nothing but cannon fodder. He suspected his father wouldn't have shed a tear over his demise. As it was, Corin hadn't shed one over his family's death either. The only one he had ever mourned had been his mother.

"We do not insult another's _riduur_ , Corin," she said seriously after a long moment of silence. " _Cin vhetin_ is taken seriously. You are one of us."

"I'm not, Raga. I understand I'm not a Mandalorian. And it wasn't really an insult to my person. It's my mistake to be so… weak." He shrugged. "I got to him. He reacted."

"You're not weak! Paz just has a huge chip on his shoulder and he hates the Imps with hot vengeance. That's when his brain-mouth filter is off."

"Many share that hatred. He's no exception. I'm used to it."

"You're _aliit_. Clan! You're not an Imp!"

"He knows what I was."

Raga made an abrupt, slashing motion with one hand. "And it's the past."

"He didn't attack me personally, Raga. Only my past in general."

She snorted. "He did enough damage by just saying a few choice words. Yes, we're a proud and battle-hardened people, and we go off against each other for sometimes minor stuff, but we don't disrespect another's Bonded by dragging up their past. You respect our customs, you speak our language." She tilted her head. "We do not assume to know anyone's past. When you become clan, that past is gone. Yes, Paz didn't attack you personally, Corin. The Empire destroyed our world, our people. It killed those close to us. We remember them every day, but it hurts to lose family. A lot. It's also no excuse to dig into an open wound."

"I know," he said quietly. "I wore the armor for a very long time, Raga. I know the hatred. Nearly got me killed a few times. The last time would have been final, if not for Din."

"You wore the armor of your choosing. Because of tradition. You father's really some big-shot?"

"Was. Admiral. He was killed on the Death Star."

Raga watched the child as he chewed on what looked like a stick. Corin briefly checked what it was, then decided it was safe.

"You spoke the truth," she finally said. "We all know it's dangerous what we do, to show our presence, our numbers and strength, but it's time. We are a proud people. We had to crawl in the dust, hide, beg for scraps. We took back some of what we were."

"It could kill you," he told her quietly.

"And we would die with honor instead of being slaughtered like cattle."

"Because of one foundling?" Their child.

"Foundlings are the future. And it's not just because of this little one. He was only the last in a long line of reasons to rise. Mandalore was devastated a long time ago and we never recovered. They eradicated all that was us, hunted us down like animals, and we hid. We survived and we grew; we're strong."

"Strong enough to risk everything."

"Strong enough to no longer just lay down and take it."

The child warbled, watching them closely. It cooed, clutching the mythosaur amulet, and Corin's smile grew.

"He doesn't talk?"

"No," Corin answered, glad to change the subject at hand. "I'm not sure whether it's his young age or maybe that he can't speak the words. He can use a form of empathy, pushing an idea into your mind. Took a while, but we got really good at interpreting that."

She tilted her head. "I heard such things about the _Jetii_. They can manipulate your mind, make you see and believe things that aren't there."

Corin shook his head. "No. No, he hasn't done any of that. He knows there are boundaries."

The child chirped, eyes serious. It looked a little put out, as if Raga's words had deeply offended him.

"He's learning good from bad," the former Stormtrooper added levelly. "We teach him."

And the planet taught him. While Sonsos as an entity didn't have the ethics and the sense of right and wrong as Corin or Din, it did teach their child a different kind of boundaries.

"You cannot teach him about something you don't understand yourself."

"I might not be able to use this Force stuff, but I know not to manipulate people to act like puppets!" Corin's voice was colder now. "Or to put thoughts into their heads. Or to use my abilities to harm them!"

The child made a soft, slightly distressed sound. It looked up at Corin, clearly asking what was wrong. He gave him an apologetic smile. In the back of his mind, Sonsos seemed to shift.

Raga raised her hands. "Wow. Slow down! I wasn't accusing the little guy or you of anything. I was just thinking that to teach something, you should at least have an idea of it yourself. You're not force-sensitive, are you?"

"No." He was just a null-zone, as Sonsos had said. Not something he would tell the Mandalorian. "It's worked out so far. Being force-sensitive doesn't make you a Jedi. The kid is powerful already, has a handle on stuff other Jedi would need a long time to understand. He's a natural and all he needs is someone to help him along."

Like the planet, who was a patient and very dedicated teacher. The kid had become better, was stronger, was learning to protect itself and to move faster when danger was around. The empathic contact had strengthened his mind and apparently he was learning to shield, too. At least that's what Corin got from those interactions sometimes. He was still a baby and he wasn't even close to an age where a warrior could be trained, but that was absolutely okay. All he wanted was for the kid to be safe, to have a measure of understand and control over his powers, and that was progressing just fine.

She nodded. "This place… it's good. It feels good. Even if the plant-life is… interesting."

Corin watched the vine wrapped around the post ripple. No sharp-toothed flowers had shown up yet, but like the Mandalorian he was always aware of where they were. Both had developed a sixth sense for the planet's more active presence, and sometimes he felt its interest as it brushed over his mind in an almost absent-minded way. The child handled it with ease; for Corin it had taken a lot of getting used to.

"It's… unique," he now said slowly. In oh-so many ways.

A shiver brushed over his mind, the entity listening in and leaning closer, quizzical but peaceful. He relaxed, told it that Raga was okay. Just curious.

She chuckled. "Then you fit quite nicely. All three of you."

He shot her a confused look. "The kid maybe, but we're…"

"You're just as weird and unique," she told him, audibly smirking. "Din Djarin was one of the highest paid bounty hunters. He could take his pick. He was paid handsomely. He provided for the Covert. He never lost a bounty The first time a bounty could convince him otherwise was with this child. He also never took in a partner. You convinced him otherwise."

Corin schooled his features, but he knew he was still too open. "He didn't take me in as a partner. He just… well, I was supposed to leave at the next stop."

"And yet, here you still are." She tilted her head. "Wearing beskar."

He didn't comment.

"You come from a line of warriors," Raga stated.

Corin snorted derisively.

"You do," she told him firmly. "As Mandalorians we respect those who are warriors like us, even if they are enemies."

"You respect a Stormtrooper?"

The Mandalorian tilted her head. "In battle I recognize courage and skill. I would honor a fallen enemy that I bested in combat, my survival against theirs. Shooting at sitting targets takes no skill. Facing your opponent on a field of death and destruction, standing against an overwhelming force with no back-up and hardly a weapon, still fighting to die an honorable death, that I respect. There are those even within Imperial ranks that do the same, see a fellow warrior and pay that very respect."

"Well, my father and uncle wouldn't have been among those," he said evenly, barely an inflection in his voice. "Career soldiers, yes, but more bureaucratic battles than real life confrontations."

"But you are that warrior, Corin. You have honor and soul. You didn't blindly follow an order to kill or destroy. Din recognized that in you. Not just that. You became clan; you took bond vows."

He refused to flush, but from her posture, Corin knew he was doing a bad job.

The child had started to climb up the porch, following an insect hopping over the planks. It cooed triumphantly as it caught the hopper.

"Don't eat it," Corin sighed and plucked it out of the three-fingered hand.

The child looked satisfied nevertheless, not the least bit troubled by losing the spoils of its hunt to Corin. He also never his powers to get the things he was chasing. Corin had taught him that and he was proud how the kid followed it.

"He's a good hunter," Raga lauded.

The child preened, clearly understanding the words.

"He's a little menace," Corin grumbled.

"But a cute one."

There was no arguing with that. Corin watched as the kid walked off, going wherever he wanted to go and probably about to get into trouble. At least the plants wouldn't eat him. They were usually just watching.

"He loves you a lot, you know," Raga said conversationally.

Corin blinked and stared at her, mouth opening and closing.

She was clearly laughing at him under that helmet. "Din Djarin. The battle-hardened hunter. The laconic man of few words and the occasional sarcasm. He's completely sold on you. You have him wrapped around your fingers and I think you had him for a long, long time."

"I… uhm…"

Raga tilted her head, chuckling. She placed a light hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "You are one of us, Corin. Of Djarin clan and of our tribe. Few who do not take the Creed can call themselves that: clan." She looked over past his shoulder and Corin discovered Din walking over to them. "That's my cue. I'll see if Paz is still somewhat alive. Later." And she was gone.

If Paz was what? Corin thought, caught off guard. And then he saw the slightly scuffed armor of his husband and nearly groaned out loud.

The Mandalorian knew the moment he approached Raga and Corin that whatever they had talked about, it had relaxed the other man somewhat. The tension was almost completely gone. The child was in the company of one of the plants and warbling to it. It turned its muzzled head and gave him a terrifying grin, all teeth and sharp edges.

Corin looked at him, eyes running up and down his scuffed armor, clearly showing the mild altercation with Paz over what had happened, then he walked into the house. The moment they were alone, Dine closed the last distance and wrapped an arm around the slender waist, their foreheads touching.

"I'm fine," Corin murmured.

He laughed. Softly. Disbelieving. Corin's default answer to any question into his well-being. He could be bleeding out from a gut shot and still… Din stopped that train of thought. His husband had been bleeding out from a gut shot already, in the beginning of their relationship, before either man had been aware of just how strong their connection would become. It wasn't a time he wanted to relive.

"It's… nothing bad. Just… memories. We all have them."

"You are my clan, Corin. You are my husband. Paz was absolutely out of line." He fought back the murderous notion that wanted to creep into his voice at the latter fact.

Their foreheads still touched and Corin finally raised his head.

"What I said hit a nerve," he finally said. "Your people are proud, Din. Being warriors is a cornerstone of your identity. It's your soul. You suffer because you have to hide like cowards. It eats at every single one of you. What he said hit a nerve as well." Corin interlaced their fingers. "And please tell me you didn't hit him in turn."

The Mandalorian chuckled. "I can't."

It got him a groan.

"He has a hard head. Protected by beskar. He's okay. Wasn't our first scuffle."

"And I believe you. You didn't have to defend my honor."

"I wasn't."

Corin rolled his eyes.

"Tell me," the Mandalorian prompted.

"Nothing much to tell."

"Corin." The voice was soft, low, gentle and still held a warning.

He sighed. "I was a soldier of the Empire. Nothing more, nothing less. Foot soldier. One in tens of thousands. A number, no name. You go through training, you are assigned a post. You went out of line, you were punished. Sometimes sent to reconditioning. Doesn't help if you're an Admiral's son. A son who never amounted to much and doesn't want to either. You don't get special treatment. You don't get out of punishments and regulations. You don't get out of anything, but that's what my father trained me for, too."

Din exhaled slowly, his mind translating the words, reading between the lines. "They punished you."

"Like they did every drone who got out of line. It was nothing new." He shrugged, feeling no pain at those memories anymore. It was his past and because of that it was the past. It had happened, he had dealt with it, he had survived.

Another slow exhale.

"Your family punished you."

Corin nervously drummed his fingers against his thighs, shifting his weight, then he finally sighed.

"My father was an admiral. Not when I was born, but he was already rising through the ranks. He was a born soldier. My uncle… well, they were brothers and apparently shared that talent. So they expected great things from me, too."

Din was silent, filing it all away. They had never really talked about Corin's past, mostly because he knew it was a painful part of him, one he didn't want to get dragged out into the open. Paz had done it for him, in a way, and right now he wanted to go back and kick his beskar-plated ass some more.

"They didn't abuse me," Corin added softly. "I was simply trained at an early age. After my mother passed, the training intensified. I was to follow in their footsteps." He met the visored eyes. "You train your children early on, too. Nothing different."

"Yes, we do, but we do not punish. We teach."

"Even in the fighting corps?"

Din tilted his head. "I made my choice when I came of age. Before that, I was simply trained in weapons and close combat, as every foundling is. Our children learn to defend themselves."

"So did I. I just got paid for it after a while. I was assigned a number. I was a soldier and as such was disciplined when I got out of line. I wasn't a failure until I didn't rise to team leader or applied for special positions."

Din cupped his face, gently had Corin meet his eyes. "You were never a failure, Corin. Never."

The other man smiled. It was soft, loving, launching a million emotions inside him.

"I was. And I'm glad I failed. I'm incredibly happy I was a lowly Snowtrooper on some unimportant planet. And even if it didn't feel like good luck, I know it was nothing but that when they demoted me again and sent me to that desert hell."

Where he had been captured by hunters and nearly killed. Where he had met the Mandalorian again. Where his new life had started.

Din caressed his face, then briefly leaned in to touch foreheads.

To say he was a little more possessive that night, a little more claiming than usual, was actually an understatement. Corin shuddered under the single-minded attention, the lips and hands all over his body, barely holding back an exclamation when a hot, wet mouth swallowed him.

He was only happy to return the favor.

They lay together in the afterglow, Corin feeling lazy and spent, and the fingers drawing random patterns on his skin were calming and reassuring.

"Damn…" he groaned. "Damn!"

"Sorry."

"Don't you dare!" he growled.

Din buried his face against the warm neck. Corin wrapped his arms around him, felt the faint tremors, felt the tension in the well-trained form.

"He pushed all your buttons," he murmured. "And mine. He's good at that."

Teeth scraped over the skin between his shoulder and neck, leaving marks.

"He does that," was the low whisper.

Corin shivered.

The dark eyes that met his own reflected nothing but passion and desire. "I love you," he said in Mando'a.

"I love you," he echoed.

It was rare that he woke first, but when he did and Din was still in bed with him, Corin took the time to just look at him. Despite the fact that the helmet was always off when it was just them inside the privacy of their bedroom, he couldn't get enough. He wanted to commit every tiny detail to memory.

Every hair, every shadow, every scar, every piece of perfection or imperfection.

Everything that was Din Djarin.

"I can hear you watching me."

Corin grinned.

Dark eyes cracked open, amusement radiating off the other man.

"I like to watch."

Din stretched lazily, muscles moving under warm skin, and Corin knew he was gone on this man. Completely gone. It wasn't just because he was the badass legendary Mandalorian warrior or because he was really handsome in so many ways, with the helmet and without. No, Din was also warm, funny, sarcastic, and very much human despite all other claims. He cared. He truly, honestly cared.

The Mandalorian reached up and Corin caught the hand, interlacing their fingers, smiling. It got him that almost shy, warm smile in return. A smile that had something inside of him melt into a puddle of emotional goo.

From somewhere outside came a loud squee, then a heavy 'thunk'.

Din rolled his eyes.

Corin had to hide his laughter.

Neither man moved and Din pulled Corin down to him. He kissed his husband, hands roaming over the slender form.

"You planning on something?" Corin murmured.

It got him a slow, lazy smile.

He settled over the strong thighs, nipping at the wet lips, then the strong chin. Corin was quite aware where this was leading and he felt the hard evidence already. He mouthed his way along the column of the Mandalorian's throat and playfully over the bare chest and when there were no protests, just soft encouragement, he continued his path.

Neither man surfaced for a while.

The child didn't interrupt.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, sorry!

Paz and Raga had spent the night in their ship and returned in the late morning. Raga had decided to explore the village, see what the vendors had to offer, while Paz stayed at the farm.

"How many were lost?"

Paz looked out over the late morning landscape, studying the vines not far away. "Some."

Din was silent. He knew that coming out of the underground and rising against the Imperial remnants had been risky, and every single Mandalorian was aware of it. But they were a proud warrior race, not scared rats that would cower forever.

The other Mandalorian finally turned his head. "It is a price we knew we would pay. We will not hide any longer," he stated, voice quiet but hard, none of the boisterous claims of before left. "Too many have pushed us into the dark, left us there to rot. It's time to show we are not a dead people."

"You cannot wage war against them all."

It got him a snort. "It's not a war. The Imps got their armored hides kicked off Nevarro. The New Republic hasn't reached to the planet yet and might never. Nevarro isn't in the dark recesses of the known galaxy like this place, but it's not a frequent stopping point either. The Guild set up there for a reason. We came there for a reason. We get little to no visitors of the accidental kind. It's not home, but it is a home."

The Mandalorian nodded. He knew that. It had been sort of a home for him for too long, even though his hunts had taken him away more often than not.

"You have found yours," Vizla said, voice calm and serious, just like his whole demeanor. "Here. On some long forgotten hellhole of a planet."

"It has its perks," he answered wryly.

It got him a chuckle. Paz nodded at the vines that had appeared throughout their stay, motionless but still threatening. None looked like the flowery kind, pretty to look at and nice to have around. All were dark shades of green and blue, some veined in purple or yellow. 

"Perks, hm? A sentient, ferocious and probably very lethal plant the size of the planet? Or your handsome husband and the cute little foundling?"

Din tensed a little, felt Sonsos' renewed interest and attention on them.

"Relax, Djarin. You're still too uptight about your _riduur's_ past. What he was is gone. He might have been some Imp, but he's actually a good guy. Also quite good at straight-out saying what's on his mind, no matter how heavily armed the opponent is. He also still has better temper control than you, that's for sure."

The Mandalorian shifted his body again and Paz laughed out loud, clearly amused.

"You want to have a go again? I'm all for it. I know you're a badass, Din Djarin."

Din glared at him from behind the visor.

"He doesn't need you to defend and protect his honor."

"I'm not…"

"Pull the other one."

He shifted again in warning. It only amused Vizla more.

"Neither Corin nor your child are defenseless. And I speak the truth: he is a good man. His soul is that of a true warrior."

"Remember that when you run your mouth off again!" he snapped.

"Goes both ways."

There was a hot, angry surge racing through the Mandalorian, then he forced himself to relax. Because that was exactly what Paz kept talking about. Corin's past was this dark, vicious shadow hanging over him, sometimes raising its snarling head at the most inopportune moments. He knew all about trauma, about bad history, about trying to push it all aside. He had been a child and it had been ages ago, but it had shaped his life.

"I trust your judgement or you wouldn't have fallen so hard for the guy, it left a dent in your faceplate." He tilted his head mockingly. "Even you are not so shallow to just keep him around because he looks pretty."

Din almost reacted to that taunt. Almost.

Paz nodding approvingly. "That's how you handle this," he lauded. He let his eyes roam over the land again. "So you're staying?"

"Yes."

"It's a good place for raise a foundling, if you're into the whole sentiency thing. Wouldn't want to be under such close watch all the time myself." Paz shrugged. "It would be watching us all the time. You, not so much."

Din raised his eyebrows behind his helmet, his body reflecting his silent prompt. Mandalorians were good at reading body language.

"This is your home, Din. It's attuned to you. Anyone can feel it, how it seems to tighten around you and the child. It's watching us and I know when I'm only tolerated for a while."

"Really," he remarked wryly, sarcasm bleeding into his voice. "That's news."

The other man chuffed. "Sonsos is yours. We're not going to relocate here."

The whole planet seemed to echo the statement, the empathic wave strong but not overwhelming, reflecting how much the clan of three belonged. And how much it didn't want more.

"It protects you and your force-sensitive child. The _jetii_ are growing stronger again," he went on. "Heard some rumors. They are looking for those who went into hiding, who might not even know what they can do, what they could be."

He felt a low level tension creep through him, muscles coiling for a fight that couldn't be fought right now or right here. Yes, the Jedi might be the child's people, but they weren't his family. Not by blood. A Mandalorian would only return a foundling to the blood family after they had been taken in by the clan. This child was his son; _gai bal manda_ – body and soul.

"When he comes of age, it will be his decision," Din heard himself say, the words more painful than he had expected.

Paz looked at him; silent.

"He is my son," he continued. "I will not hand him over to the _jetii_ , just like I didn't hand him over to the Empire."

It got him a sharp nod. "This is the Way."

"This is the Way."

Sonsos vibrated with suppressed anger at the very idea of someone taking the child away from his parents, his clan, and this planet. Din heard and felt the conviction and promise that should the Jedi come, Sonsos wouldn't take kindly to them.

Paz shifted, radiating a brief unease as if he had felt the harsh intent to kill and maim should the child be taken. He snorted.

"Well, fuck," he remarked. "This is what lives here?"

"Yes."

There was a silent respect, a brief nod, and Vizla's eyes sought out the visible vines again.

"This thing has killed for you and will again," he stated.

"Yes."

"Even if it hurts itself?"

"This is only the surface, Paz. It goes deeper."

"It's still not just a flesh wound to get shot apart by Deathtroopers."

Din nodded slowly. "No, it isn't. It feels it."

"You think someone else might come?" Paz asked.

"I hope not," was the honest answer.

The entity trembled, but not in fear. It would rise against whatever came next. It would always rise.

Vizla muttered a Mando'a curse.

*

The child was absolutely enamored by Paz Vizla. For whatever reason. The large Mandalorian sat on the porch, the kid on his knees, telling it stories about great battles and the glorious history of Mandalore the Great. The child looked awed and burbled cheerfully.

"I have no idea what it is about Vizla and foundlings, but it happens with each every one of them," Raga remarked, leaning against the wall and keeping an eye on things. She had come back from her trip to the village not long ago.

Corin studied them, brows lowered over blue eyes. Vizla hadn't so much as uttered a single apology and he hadn't expected one. It was as if the whole altercation had never happened and that was probably the way the Mandalorians dealt with confrontations and verbal fights. Corin had pushed it all away anyway. Thinking about his past was never a good state of mind.

_Cin vhetin_ , he told himself. It concerned himself, too. Forget what was; thinking of the now.

Raga leaned in. "Had fun last night?" the female Mandalorian whispered.

He glared at her.

She was clearly grinning behind that helmet. Probably very widely and suggestively.

There was an excited squeal from the child and Paz chuckled. The mythosaur amulet was dangling from his fingers and the child was trying to reach it. For a nanosecond Corin wanted to intervene, then he caught on to how cheerful the kid looked, not at all distressed, and how teasing Vizla's laughter sounded.

"Do you know what the mythosaur is?" the large Mandalorian asked playfully.

He lowered the amulet for the small arms to reach it and the child wrapped his fingers around the silver treasure, immediately chewing on it.

"That's no way to treat the greatest of all Mandalorian beasts ever to live!" Paz exclaimed, mock outraged.

He really was good with children, Corin realized, relaxing his shoulders. He listened as Vizla told his child the story of the mythosaurs, aware that Raga was watching him in turn. Vizla spun an epic tale of the magnificent creatures that had roamed the planet, their supposed powers, their might and strength, how his distant ancestors had tried to tame them.

"Paz loves children," she said softly after a while.

That was absolutely clear. It was amazing how well the heavy infantry soldier handled the baby, how gentle and careful he was, and how easily he entertained him.

"He has his own?"

"No."

Corin shot her a brief look, but he couldn't detect any kind of loss or mourning in the word.

The child burbled excitedly and Paz carefully adjusted the necklace. The small hands held onto the silver skull. It smiled brightly.

"You still haven't named him yet?"

Corin shook his head.

Raga cocked her helmet.

He refused to be baited and just walked off to check on their kios. Raga's soft laughter followed him.


	31. Chapter 31

Paz Vizla found him as Corin was done with their quadruped mounts. The kios weren't prone to just walking all over the place, usually happy to stay within the corral or run on the wide expanse of the farm's parcel of land. The crumbling walls wouldn't naturally keep them from jumping the borders and disappear, but they were content to hang around. Vhon had been right that they were easy maintenance, hardly demanded any extra time, and they listened to being called. Now and then Corin would brush them down, which was a nice work-out and also doubled as bonding time with their rides.

When Paz walked over, Corin unconsciously stiffened, immediately on guard.

"Relax. Clan is not the enemy," the large Mandalorian in the heavy duty armor said in ways of a greeting. "We fight, we scuffle, we blow off steam, but the old days of one-on-one combat to the death are past."

"How reassuring," Corin replied levelly, face neutral.

Paz snorted, clearly giving him a once-over. "You need some getting used to."

He would not cower. He would not back down. He would not look away and show weakness. "I could say the same."

"Not many who haven't taken the Creed ever join a clan," Vizla continued, voice more serious now. "Not many of us find a partner outside our own people, for various reasons. It's difficult for outsiders to adjust to our way of life. Relationships have fallen apart over the simple fact that an outsider cannot see their partner's face."

Corin was quite aware of that.

"Our armor is our religion. It is a strong belief, a code of honor, a way of life. An outsider cannot understand what it means to be _dar'manda_ , to lose one's heritage, one's identity and soul." Vizla tilted his head a little, voice suddenly taking on a rather curious note. "You do. You understood. You respected it."

"I still do," he replied calmly.

There had never been any doubt in Corin's mind. At all.

"You still do," Paz agreed and he sounded impressed. "You respect our culture, you respect your husband's very soul. You never asked."

No, he hadn't. He never would have. Even the blindfold had been just an idea that Corin had expected to be rejected.

"You are strong, Corin," Paz said calmly, no taunting, no sarcasm, no glaringly obvious insults. "Stronger than you think. You know who you are. So does the kid. That little guy loves you. From what I've seen so far, he's a really good judge of character. You are not defined by where you're from. Your past is gone. It stays inside you, but to the clan it's gone. You are not judged by it, not are you defined by it."

"Really. Not what I heard." Corin shot him a narrow-eyed look.

Vizla chuckled. "Ignore the words. Listen to the emotions." He stabbed a finger at him. "That's what's important. Words are just words. You can't let them go for your throat."

That had the former Stormtrooper frown. Yes, the words had triggered things in him; bad things. Past things. Things he was ashamed of, things that had defined him and made him an enemy to many. The words had launched a flashback to his past, to his biological family, to the man who had raised him to be the perfect little soldier and had been disappointed by his son again and again.

The emotions at the time… relayed through the words… It had been a non-hostile taunt! Aimed to get a rise out of him. Paz hadn't been as angered by Corin's coldly delivered reminder that the Mandalorians might not be prepared for what they had started than he had shown. He hadn't sounded disgusted to hear that Corin's father had been a highly ranked officer for the Empire.

"You're an asshole," he muttered.

Paz laughed; a loud, booming laugh. "And you have more guts than many think. You have grown, but you need to let go of your past, Corin Djarin. Otherwise it will kill you."

"I can't forget what I am."

"You are Din Djarin's Bonded. By vow. Nothing more and most definitely anything less!"

"Easy for you to say."

Paz snorted. "We all have a past. Have you looked at those who live on this planet? I bet there are at least ten former Imps here."

Corin raised his eyebrows.

"Not hard to see. You guys have a certain way of standing, of walking, coming to attention. It's bred into you. Or beaten."

There it was again. The taunt. This time Corin felt it glance off him with ease.

Paz nodded, almost approvingly. "You're been around Djarin enough to lose most of that. Soon you'll have lost the rest of that training, too."

There was a quizzical warbling and the large Mandalorian looked down, radiating surprise. Corin knew not to be surprised anymore when it came to their child. He was sneaky when he wanted to be. He cooed and Paz picked him up, raising it to eye level.

"Your clan is made up out of idiots."

Another coo.

"And you know it," Paz stated, smirking audibly. "Good kid."

Another warble.

He settled him in the crook of his arm, small green fingers petting the armor plates and tugging at the clothes underneath. Paz let him, radiating amused patience and kindness.

"You have the heart and soul of a Mandalorian," he said, looking at Corin. "You're Djarin's clan. You're his family and Vow Bonded. Everything else is simply words to hurt you. Learn to hide the pain. Feel it, endure it, let it slide off. Grow stronger, just like you have. You know who you are, Corin."

He hadn't for a long time. His family name had been a blessing and a curse. In the end, it had been nothing but bad luck.

"Yes, I do," he said quietly after a while. Now he did.

"Our past is always with us. For some more than for others. For some the pain will always be there, drive them on, remind them of what they have lost. Others deal with it and walk on. Decide what suits you best."

He held out the hand that wasn't cradling the child. Corin took it, Paz clasping his lower arm.

" _Oya manda_ ," he declared.

Corin returned the grip, aware that the expression of solidarity and perpetuity meant a lot.

The child burbled, as if trying to form the same words. It failed, but Corin caught the gist of it, smiling.

Paz chuckled and tickled the kid's belly, making him giggle. "You'll be a great warrior one day, especially if your uncle Paz teaches you a lesson or two."

"He's too young to be trained."

Corin shot his husband a warm smile as the other Mandalorian joined them almost silently.

"He'll grow."

Considering he was a baby at age fifty, Corin didn't think the next growth spurt would get him anywhere near teenage stage any time soon.

"He also needs a name," Paz declared, lifting the child a little higher. "A good, strong warrior's name." That got him a coo. "Like Paz."

"In your dreams," Din told him levelly.

The child's forehead wrinkled in an adorable little frown.

"You can't leave him without a name. Every foundling receives a name."

"He will have a name."

"When? When he's of age? You want to call him _ad'ika_ until then?"

Corin almost snickered. It would take a while until their child was truly of age. He might have a sudden growth spurt or even undergo some kind of mental growth, who knew? His species was unknown, so they might go from baby stage to teenager without warning.

Vizla poked the kid's belly and drew another laugh.

"Paz Djarin. Sounds about right. Your uncle would approve."

"He will not be named Paz," Din growled.

The other Mandalorian ignored him, still talking to the child. "You like Paz?" 

It made a quizzical noise.

"Of course you do!"

A chirp and he frowned comically.

"There you have it, Djarin!" Vizla declared. "He'll be a Paz."

"He won't be any such thing," Din told him firmly. He gently and carefully plucked the kid out of Vizla's hands. "He's not a Vizla."

"Too bad. A proud warrior name. Vizla."

Corin felt the last of his tension drain away as he listened to the banter. He caught sight of Raga, leaning against the support beam of the porch, watching with clear amusement, too.

This was his husband's tribe. And Corin was starting to ease into the familiarity, the feeling of belonging, of acceptance, and of friendship.

*

They stayed for a while.

Paz had proudly declared himself the child's official uncle.

Corin didn't have to see it to know Din was rolling his eyes behind his visor. Hard. So hard.

Vizla spent a lot of time with the little one, telling him stories about Mandalore, about his fights, about the clans, about anything and everything. It went as far as him explaining the heavy duty blaster to him in detail.

The child listened earnestly, cooing questions that apparently only Paz could understand, and he taught him Mando'a words for all kinds of weapons. None were repeated, but the kid was truly fascinated and absolutely one hundred percent invested.

"You'll get your own armor one day," Paz told him. "When you grow up. Or just a little bigger. Lots of damage can be done below the knee, but depending on species, the lower abdomen is your target."

Corin had started to adjust to his large presence, his manners, his rather direct way. He simply said what was on his mind, walking into a situation like the battering ram he was. Paz wasn't a bad guy; he wasn't stupid either. He was simply straight-forward, no-nonsense, but also full of sarcasm, banter and teasing remarks.

The planet was wary, which showed through a number of threatening looking plants with lots of teeth and thorns that grew around the house. The child loved to play with them, train whatever the plant was teaching him, and Corin felt the intense protective air everywhere.

"It doesn't like us," Paz commented.

"It's cautious," Corin replied.

"So it's mirroring you?"

That had him start. "W-what?"

It got him a low, dark chuckle. A knowing chuckle. He refused to blush, just met the dark visor with a defiant glare.

"Heart and soul of a Mandalorian," Paz only echoed his words of before. He lightly clapped Corin's shoulder, but it was still quite an impact. "You'll do your clan proud. You already are."


	32. Chapter 32

When they left, Din felt a strange stab of loss. Not enough to make him want to leave Sonsos and return to Nevarro. It was just a reminder that his people were all over the galaxy, without a true home. Mandalore was a wasteland, most of the planet destroyed by the last war. The Empire and the Jedi had made sure that the _Mando'ade_ would be nomads and homeless.

For his tribe to step out into the open on Nevarro and face down the Imps meant that they were now very visible. They might even attract the attention of the New Republic.

Corin was next to him, close but not close enough to be called intimate. He didn't touch, said nothing, but the support was there. He was very much aware of his husband and it was a sense that was growing steadily, had become stronger and clearer in the past months since their vows.

Corin thought it was the influence of the force energy around them, how Sonsos interacted with this field, how the child accessed it.

Sonsos seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Not a people person," Corin murmured.

Din chuckled humorlessly.

The entity only hummed.

*

Corin walked into the tiny clinic, followed by the Mandalorian, eyes tracking through the room. There was no one around; just crammed shelves and boxes stacked everywhere.

"I doubt you came back for supplies."

The medic raised his brows. He was sorting through obscure bundles of dried things.

"We're good," Corin answered.

"Your friends already gone?" He chuckled at the scowl. "Two more Mandalorians? Hard to miss. Clan?"

The Mandalorian stiffened a little, the lines of his body tightening.

"Though you have your own signet now." The medic nodded at the pauldron on the Mandalorian's shoulder.

"How do you know so much?" Corin asked.

It got him a shrug.

"Who are you?" he demanded, feeling an unaccustomed surge of anger. "How do you know so much? Why don't you just say it outright?"

The other man smiled slowly, those sharp eyes studying them with an intensity that was almost disconcerting. Finally he gestured at the table.

"Sit."

Corin was close to crossing his arms and stubbornly just standing where he was. The Mandalorian was a silent presence next to him. He was simply watching.

Corin finally sat down, joined by his husband, but he didn’t lose the tension.

The medic grabbed a bottle from a cupboard, shooting both a quizzical look. The Mandalorian was silent and Corin just shook his head. The large man just uncorked the bottle and took a deep pull before sitting down as well.

“I told you that people come to this place for a reason. Each for their own reason.” He cocked a thick brow at the Mandalorian. “I have my own.”

Din stayed silent.

"I've seen kings, queens, rulers and empires rise and fall. I was there before the latest shift in galactic power and I'll see another rebellion again."

Corin narrowed his eyes.

"Countless generations have gone through the same ups and downs," the medic said neutrally. "New Republic or not, it might just take one more generation and you'll have a new order again." He shrugged. "It's why I'm here. Like many of us are here. We are tired of the politics, the pursuits."

"You worked for the Empire?"

"Which one?" was the amused question. "The latest? The one before? I've been around to see them all, in all variations and with all kinds of good and bad intentions. They come and go. I just wanted to stay alive. Like you."

Corin felt a flush of anger, which he bit down on. Yes, he had wanted to stay alive. And he had followed in the footsteps of his father and uncle. People who had achieved greatness, unlike him.

"This life," the medic continued softly. "It takes from you. Everything. It took everything I was, ever had been, ever wanted to be. It took all and never gave back. You don't get to choose happiness. You only get to choose survival."

Corin debated with himself for one whole second, then decided to use the rare openness of the man to ask.

"How do you know so much about Mandalorian customs and language?"

His husband turned his head, clearly shooting him a look that Corin knew only too well. He had no idea whether Din knew the truth or not. No one had told him and it had been on his mind ever since the medic had used Mando’a. Just one word, true, but it had been Mando’a. Not something you just picked up through a translator. Not something you could buy a book on.

It got him a wry smile, those heavy brows keeping the eyes in shadows. "I know less than you think. Less than you did when you arrived here.”

He glared again. It amused the medic more than Corin wanted.

“I'm not Mandalorian, in case you wondered."

Corin waited. Silently.

"I knew some. My line of work introduced me to very interesting, varying species and people. And how they suffered and lost."

Corin blinked. "Uh."

The Mandalorian next to him had tensed subtly, but there was a shift in his body language, something careful, something cautious.

"Their wives, their husbands, their children. Their whole people, identity and maybe even planet. Pain overrides many barriers." The medic emptied his bottle. "I learned several words in those days. For death. For revenge. For pain. For love and hatred. Some stick."

“You treated Mandalorians,” Din stated neutrally.

“Yes. A very long time ago.”

_Kriff_ , Corin thought faintly.

“I never visited Mandalore. Few have since the Great Purge. Even fewer have been born there. Mandalorians were thought to be extinct for a long time.”

The tension was back. Corin was very tempted to squeeze his husband’s wrist, but he refused to show any kind of emotional bonds outside of private moments in safe locations. He respected the Way.

“I saw death. Too many times. It’s why I came here.”

“After the fall of the Old Republic,” Din stated neutrally.

It only got him a wry look. Corin felt like his mind was reeling. The man had been here for… how long?

"It talks to you, too?"

The medic snorted. "Talk? Words? Actual words?"

Corin felt something flush through him, as if he had just revealed a secret that he hadn't realized was one.

"You have come far." The man shot Din a look. "Both of you."

The Mandalorian shifted a little, tensing.

"I know something's out there and have since I set foot on this planet. You can feel it in your bones sometimes, something powerful and really old. I told you, no one knows what it is, how big it is…" He smirked. "You might now."

"I don't," Corin replied flatly.

"But it talks to you."

The Mandalorian was now radiating clear warnings. It had the medic chuckle.

"Relax, Mando. Relax. And the answer is still no. I don't hear it talk. It can make itself known to those who know what to listen for. I'm not really good at picking up cues, unless they are as visual as the vines and plant-life. I think it tried to adjust me, to enable me, but it takes a sensitivity that I don't share."

Corin's hands clenched into fists. Force-sensitivity. Like their child's abilities. Or being null zones?

The medic finished off his drink and dumped the bottle, a finality about him that told Corin they had been dismissed. He glanced at Din, who was already lithely getting to his feet.

They walked down the dusty road toward where they had left the two kios, who were patiently waiting for them to get back.

“Wow,” Corin muttered after a moment.

Din was silent.

“You knew?”

It got him a shrug. “I never asked.”

He shot him an incredulous look.

The Mandalorian pointedly tilted his head. Corin grumbled something and got onto the kios’ broad back. He knew that people liked their privacy and poking around in one’s past could get you killed pretty quickly. As a bounty hunter, Din Djarin had made sure to know whatever he needed to know about a target, but quizzing potential allies or acquaintances hadn’t been on is agenda.

Corin had simply poured his life out to him unasked, so that had been rather awkward, the former Stormtrooper now knew.

They rode the long way home, routinely checking on the area. The house was still standing, which was a relief, since they had left the child in the care of a bunch of sentient plants.

There was a gentle shiver, reassuring him that the little one was safe and hadn’t come to harm. That he could trust in the planet to take care of the child.

_No offense_ , he thought. _Just worry._

::None taken:: came the wordless, empathic reply.

It was still weird and always would remain so.

The Mandalorian gave him a wryly amused look.

“Don’t tell me you’re used to this.”

“Then I won’t.”

The humor was there and Corin had to grin at it. It was rare to get these moments of humor and he cherished them each and every time.

“Idiot,” Corin muttered.

He walked into the house and found the child sleeping in its crib, barely even twitching when he checked on him.

The empathic touch informed him that they had played, training the kid’s powers, which explained him sleeping so soundly. Shielding was draining and he was still so very, very young, but also very powerful.

Corin ran a gentle caress over the fuzzy hair, the large ears twitching.

“He’s getting better?” he asked softly.

::Very:: was the answer. ::As are you::

He scowled.

::We talk:: Sonsos simply stated.

Oh. Right. Yeah, well, they were. Both of them.

Din was next to him, still in full gear, but when Corin started to strip off the armor, he did the same. Including the helmet. Corin always felt the renewed awe and absolute honor of being one of the rare few who were allowed to see that face. Well, aside from him there was only the child. Rare and humbling indeed.

Corin had to lean in and kiss his husband, just because.

Din smiled and wrapped his arms around him.

Underneath the farm house, the planet had woven a net of viciously sharp, lethal vines, some no more than a thin thread or visible to the naked eye. It listened to the life force of the small being that held such an incredible power, that channeled an energy it had rarely encountered in its endless existence. The child had been born with that power, didn't have to grow into it, and it was intricately interwoven with the energy field that touched all life.

It belonged. They belonged. The perfect constellation.

And Sonsos would rise to defend them again and again, no matter the shape or size of the enemy.

The child would learn about its powers. The entity would teach it in its own way, just like it would enable the protectors to adjust to their lives here. As the guardians of more than just a child.

*

They didn't come with a fleet. The Imperial remnants didn't have a lot of their old ships left and there hadn't been a Star Destroyer sighted ever since the last Death Star had blown up. There were smaller vessels, though, but the New Republic had hunted them down and either destroyed or disabled them. Those who hadn't been seized usually hid out at the more remote planets or bases.

This was one of them. An Arquitens class light cruiser.

They had been in one of the more remote places on Sonsos, the child training with the entity and obviously playfully learning to restrict its use of the Force.

Corin had been watching with sharp eyes and an unwavering attention while the Mandalorian had explored the immediate area.

All of them felt the sudden alarm, a thrum going through their very bones, as Sonsos' attention turned to the invaders.

The child warbled, concerned, slightly distressed by its teacher's sudden shift in mood. Corin's eyes were on the sky, feeling Sonsos' singular attention on what had appeared out of hyperspace and was now entering orbit.

They dropped bombs in the denser areas of the jungle, far away from where the clan of three had been training, and the entity screamed.

Fire raked over the surface, a TIE fighter blasting the jungle apart with well-placed shots, leaving deep, smoldering craters.

Imperial forces landed. Two platoons of Stormtroopers swarmed the area.

Six Deathtroopers dropped near where the Razor Crest sat. Six more had been dropped near the farm house.

Corin grabbed the child and darted off into the jungle, Din right behind him.

Vines closed off their path, even as the whole planet shook and fought the pain of so many wounds.

The Stormtroopers shot at every bush, tree or flower.

Sonsos' rage was a storm turning into a fury of epic proportions. Pain triggered an emotional reaction, cold and calculated, the barrage and constant assault just feeding into the darkness that started to rise deep within.

The more plants were turned to bleeding heaps or simply burned, the more the fury boiled underneath the surface.

The village fought back. Those who had come here weren't just refugees; they had served one side or another. They knew how to handle a gun. Those twenty Troopers sent in to rake through the village to find the child didn't expect much resistance, but there was.

A lot.

None of them survived.

Five villagers were injured.

The medic hefted a heavy machine gun, looking over the smoking remnants of the enemy soldiers. His eyes traveled west to where he knew the farm lay.

The whole planet suddenly shook and everyone who was still alive and conscious could hear the tortured scream of a gigantic organism.

One of the traders cursed softly. He was carrying an Imperial issue rifle, one the medic knew had been in the man's closet for most of his life on Sonsos. Sharp eyes met sharp eyes. No words were spoken, but they both understood this was bad.

And it was going to get so much worse. So much.


	33. Chapter 33

They had fought with everything they had, taking out several Troopers that had gone after them, shooting up the jungle with heavy weaponry while also suffering losses.

Now they were cornered. The child was protected by a bunch of very vicious guard dogs in the shape of monstrous plants that neither Corin nor Din had ever seen before. They had the shape of animals, quadrupeds, with long, sharp claws, sinewy bodies, and eyeless heads that featured jaws with needle sharp and hooked teeth. The tails split into five vine-like extensions and their whole bodies were covered in spikes.

The little one looked terrified, probably felt the disruption to the Force all around them as Sonsos was under constant attack. Its large eyes sought out his parents, ears flat against the head, and it made no sound at all. One of the plant things curled its unnaturally bendy form around the child, snarling.

And for the first time the clan faced the man who had been hunting for this child, had sent countless bounty hunters after them; the one responsible for so much suffering and death.

Dark eyes, cold and calculating, looked at the two men, took in their battered but not broken state. He was dressed all in black, the Imperial armor of a Moff, well taken care of, polished and gleaming. He held himself with a confidence that showed he was convinced he would walk out of this victorious.

"Din Djarin, the decommissioned, former hunter," he said pleasantly. "Corin Valentis, or should I say CT-113? The deserter." His smile was dark, bare of any emotions. "I would prefer to avoid further violence and encourage a moment of consideration. You have witnessed what my troops can do. We have brought with us E-Web heavy repeating blasters and can continue laying waste to this planet until I have what I want. Do you want to end this as it has for Mandalore on the Night of a Thousand Tears?"

Din stiffened imperceptibly. The Great Purge. The Empire's strike against Mandalore and the annihilation of his people.

"Do you really believe that whatever lives on this planet can stop me? Look at it! It's already half dead. I will raze this place, Din Djarin."

"This… place… will not let you," he whispered harshly.

Blood was running freely from underneath his armor. He knew he wouldn't leave alive. Neither of them would. This man had been there for the Great Purge, had probably orchestrated it, serving his Emperor. A cold-blooded, sadistic killer.

Corin was at his back, blaster in each hand, pointing the weapons at the Deathtroopers who had surrounded them.

All around them the jungle was showing the path of destruction they had torn into it. Fire, acid, blaster fire. Sonsos was delirious with the pain it was in, but there was a strength there, the empathic connection to both men unwavering, and it was both taking their pain and its own.

"This place, Mandalorian, is nothing but organic matter that will be destroyed. Nothing will be left when I'm done."

He felt the tension in Corin's shoulders, though his aim never wavered. He could almost sense the determination to go down fighting, to rather die than fall into their hands alive. And they would protect the child.

"What do you propose?" he asked levelly.

The former Imperial commander smiled slowly, coldly. The Deathtroopers at his side were still aiming their weapons at the Mandalorian.

"Reasonable negotiation."

Din felt the planet prepare for a strike. It was in such severe pain, was fighting on all fronts, the fires still eating away at it, but the fury was like a feverish fire all of its own. He might not be force-sensitive, but he could feel the energy around himself, he could feel Sonsos, and he knew this was going to get so much worse soon.

"What assurance do you offer?"

"If you're asking me if you can trust me, you cannot. You have cost me time, money and manpower to find you and the asset. The assurance I can give you is this: I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. Surrender the child and I will think about letting you go."

He knew it would never be an option.

::They will not get him::

Sonsos' words reflected an incredible amount of pain. The ship was dropping more and more bombs, the whole planet shuddering as if an earthquake was about to happen, and Din almost felt the pain himself.

Something flowed along the connection the entity had with them. It was determined, ready to risk it all to protect the child and its family.

_No!_ Din thought feverishly. _Don't do that!_

A tremor went through Corin, felt through the point of contact he had with Din. Apparently the entity was communicating with both of them.

::They will not have you!::

Something shrieked through him like a panicking drone, then the world went dark.

The villages had fought hard against the invasion of Troopers and three ships suddenly took to the air. They were small, fast fighters. One was clearly a modified Predator-class Imperial fighter, followed by two ARC-170s.

They immediately engaged the warship in orbit.

No one expected five Mandalorian ships to jump out of hyperspace and immediately go for the warship while two more set down near the swarm of Troopers.

A jolt went through the organism, a surge of power, and it gathered all it was.

The Mandalorian fighters and the three fighters pushed the warship deeper into the atmosphere. They were firing ceaselessly, herding the ship toward the planet.

One of the ARC-170s had to veer off as it took one too many hits. The others continued their assault.

Moff Gideon raised his eyes to the sky. His expression was unreadable, but there was a twitch. Then he looked back at the two men who were the last obstacle to the child he was after.

The Mandalorian didn't see him give the order. He only felt the blow to his side as one of the Deathtrooper's fired his weapon. Then a second one to his shoulder.

Sonsos screeched in absolute fury as the invaders dared to harm its protégés. Rage and anger burned through it like the fires that were ravaging its surface, consuming everything.

The child watched as his father crumbled to the ground, blood pooling where he lay. His other father had started to fire at the black soldiers, but their shots tore into his unprotected body and he collapsed.

He keened at the sight, felt their life force bleed out, felt their lights dim.

Around him, the world was exploding into agony, the ancient, gigantic organism quaking with the backlash of their pain and fading lives.

He reached out, stubby little fingers touching the plant-thing closest to it. Its sightless head turned to the small child, the rumbling hisses filled with something only the child could understand.

…it closed its eyes.

…reached for the strength that was his parents, all of them resonating within him.

…felt the balance, even as they were fading.

Sonsos reached for them as well, almost invisibly thing tendrils coming out of the ground underneath the fallen bodies, sinking into the unconscious men.

The child settled himself, opened up to the light and the energy around him. He took note of the null zones that were his guardians, his parents. He saw the thousands of thin tendrils Sonsos had used to anchor the fading lives to it, to sustain them.

The plant was too massive for the child to heal even the smallest part of the organism, but it wasn't attempting to heal.

He felt energy curl around him, felt it prickle across his skin, saw white-blue light dance around them that only force-sensitives could see. Inside that energy were the calm, soothing centers of his parents' presences. They made it better, easier, so much easier to achieve a balance with his powers.

The child let the Force flow through himself, into the other entity.

There was pain. An incredible, unending pain. An agony it couldn’t escape.

Terror, the pain, horror, fear and revulsion made it out in this one scream and it lashed out. It tore into the darkness, the cruelty, and the inflicted pain. It wanted to destroy.

And then there was energy. The guiding, strong energy of the child. Sonsos felt it like a boost, like a reset, and for a moment it was clear of the insanity and the terror. It was clear enough to finalize what it had already started.

Anyone who witnessed the countless sharp vines snapping out of the ground and holding on to whatever piece they could, wrapping around struts and ports, digging into metal plating, wouldn't believe his own eyes. Energy crackled over the colossal tentacles that were so massive, they easily held the struggling warship.

Sonsos struck out with such aggressive, unrelenting force and power, it tore the cruiser out of the air and slammed it into the already bleeding, burning ground hard enough that it broke into several pieces and left a deep impact crater.

The scream of the organism was heard by everyone, echoing through the energy field, deafening and relaying such fury, force-sensitives felt it everywhere.

The child fell back, already unconscious. Vines cradled it, the plant creatures forming a protective circle.

*

The world was a mass of confusion and pain. Memories were sketchy, close to non-existent. He had no idea where he was and how he had gotten here. He didn’t know why he felt so much pain and why it didn’t stop.

Everything was dark with spots of light that fled when he tried to concentrate on them.

His head hurt.

Head… huh, he had a head. Sure he had a head. Everyone had one, right?

And it hurt.

He wanted to move, but the thought died halfway out of his brain and down the neural connections to his legs. He felt pain, but he didn’t know where it came from.

Breathing…

Breathing was complicated. It involved pain. He wanted to stop, but stopping to breathe was bad. It might end the pain, but then everything else would end as well.

So he remained in his pain-filled world, motionless, thoughts bleeding off into nothingness, and he fought to remember.

He had no idea what was up or down. Where he was. Actually, who he was. He was floating and there was no sensation.

There were countless leafs wrapped around his arms and legs, covering wounds, knitting skin back together. His whole body was bathed in greenish gel, incredibly thin threads weaving through his skin, through his body, holding everything together, healing him, infusing him with healing liquids that came directly from the central nervous system of the entity that surrounded them.

Corin tried to move, but he couldn't do more than twitch a finger. Everything was slow, soft, cushioning him.

The pain started to disappear.

He drifted off again.

*

Din Djarin knew he should be dead, but he wasn't.

Somehow he was still alive. Not exactly in one piece, but alive.

He felt terrible. His head was pounding, his stomach was a cold, knotted pit, and he was freezing. All of him hurt. Deeply. His very mind and soul felt raw, like someone had raked claws over it.

He blinked. The world was a weird place, as if reality had shifted and only a few fix points had remained.

Corin lay not far from him, but it might just be on the other side of the planet for all he could move. His husband was covered in a dense net of hundreds of green and purple threads, the gel-like substance obscuring the view.

There were vines and leafs wrapped around Din, covering injuries, holding him together, just like they were holding Corin together. He felt his husband's presence, as if they were linked by the plants. He couldn't hear or read his thoughts, but he was very much aware of him. His life. His soul.

The child was unconscious, cradled in a nest of plant-life, guarded by the vicious looking plant creatures. They looked like the nightmarish version of the already nightmarish plant life on this planet. Somehow, it made Din feel very, very safe.

He tried not to breathe too deeply, ribs shifting where they shouldn't, but the relief that his family had survived was incredibly. It was like a living thing, warm and heavy, easing at least a fraction of his mind.

Time passed.

He had no idea how much, but after some times the Mandalorian gritted his teeth and pushed himself up. Gel ran off him in slow, thick globs. The threads stayed. Movement was slightly troubling, uncoordinated, and he knew he should just rest, but he couldn't. There was a dull pain, everything mostly numbed by the numerous live bandages, but it was still hard.

A trembling vine wrapped around his abdomen and stopped him, drawing a gasp as real pain suddenly stabbed through him, showing him just how bad he was off underneath the bandages. And that Sonsos was numbing the pain as best as possible. He cursed.

::Apologies:: The empathic wave touching him told the Mandalorian that moving was a very bad idea, that he was in a bad way, just like Corin, and to give Sonsos time.

Because they should be dead.

Because all that held them together was an alien plant that was currently just as shell-shocked and working through its own tearing agony as they were.

He sank to the ground, starting to tremble from the shock of it all.

Things had been… chaotic. Frantic. Painful. Too much to take. Too much to sanely comprehend.

Help was coming, he was told.

He gave in to the darkness.


	34. Chapter 34

It was the dead quiet after a terrible, mind-numbing storm. It was the quiet associated with death.

Paz Vizla walked over the charred ground, dead matter crunching under his heavy boots. He was still in full battle gear, right down to the heavy artillery attached to his armor. Overhead three Mandalorians flew patrol, looking for anything and everything. A modified Imperial fighter passed by, but Vizla didn't so much as twitch. Whoever he was, he had helped bring down the enemy and he was a damn good shot. The way he was circling, he was looking for enemy movement as well.

The comms crackled and he heard a calm, male voice reporting no more enemy sightings. Paz didn't know the man's name, but he acknowledged the report.

"Heading to the village," the unknown pilot told him. "Second patrol is coming back from the Southern Quadrant, reporting heavy damage to the jungle, but no movements."

Then the fighter was gone.

Wherever Vizla looked, the jungle was nothing but blackened bones and smoking craters. He had seen this place before, the lush, green endless stretch of one life-form. Now there was seemingly unlimited devastation. Knowing that this was a living organism, sentient, intelligent, protecting the Djarin clan, he felt sick to the core.

Smoke still curled in the distance and he heard more reports about numerous fires that continued to burn. He suspected that the Imps had sprayed the jungle with fast-acting incendiary gel. Water didn't extinguish those fires. He had told the Mandalorian ships patrolling overhead to take care of those hot spots. They would have to be suffocated and then closely watched.

Yes, Paz felt sickened by the very idea that the fires were burning into the living tissue of the very creature that was the planet itself. He had seen the organism fight, had seen its victories, had heard its screams. It had risked everything and brought down a ship. A warship! Not just a tiny fighter. A damn battle cruiser!

The ARC fighter had sent back what they had seen of the crash site and it was a massive, massive crater, still hot, still smoldering, but no hostiles.

"Arsu, Azizos, get over there. Keep an eye on possible new fires. Put out whatever starts burning. Any hostiles, end them," Paz ordered and one of the Mandalorian ships veered off.

His own armor was banged up, littered by blaster hits, and he was favoring one arm. The other had been wrenched in a bad angle and he knew he had probably pulled some muscles and strained the rest. Nothing he could do about at the moment and nothing that required immediate attention.

Raga wasn't far away, equally showing battle scars on her armor and injuries sustained despite of the protection, just like about every Mandalorian currently surveying the battle field for any kind of enemy movement.

Nothing moved or dared to move.

There were bodies; lots of them. None of them Mandalorian.

He grinned behind the visored helmet, a terrible, triumphant grin that showed teeth no one saw.

_Lb'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur_ – today had been a good day for someone else to die, indeed.

It had been a good fight. He had felt his blood sing, adrenaline shooting through his veins, and he had mowed down the enemy like in the good old times. The Mandalorians had been one of the most feared warriors of the galaxy and today this tribe had done them honor.

Something did move and he almost automatically aimed his gun, but when the fluid-encrusted sharp-toothed maw rose, he lowered it marginally. He looked at the thing, aware it was just a small extension of what Sonsos truly was, then nodded once.

The plant nodded back, rising to its full height like a battered but battle-victorious guard, keeping watch despite its injuries.

More rose around them, all showing the scars of what had happened, some half torn apart.

But Sonsos was alive.

Like them.

It had to heal.

Like them.

They found their missing clan not far from the worst of it all. Both men were covered in plant-life, vines moving slowly around them. Paz scanned the motionless bodies and did a double-take as he saw a multitude of fine lines running from each man into the ground, like a strange life-support system.

" _Haar'chak_ ," Raga muttered, apparently seeing the same. "This is… this is bad…"

Yes, this had been and still was bad. Going by what he could see just by his non-medical sensors had Paz want to kill a few more Imps.

The baby was sleeping or unconscious, under lethal guard. The things prowling around the three weren't anything Vizla had ever seen. He watched them warily, but since they moved out of the way of those approaching, he kept his instinctual reaction in check.

Paz tried not to curse nonstop as he took in the damage done to the two men. Neither Din nor Corin were awake and both looked like they should be dead. But they were alive, blood saturating the ground, their bodies wrapped in leafy bandages and a greenish gel that seemed to soak into their skin as he watched. How either man was still breathing was a miracle.

Just a few feet away lay the body of the one responsible for all the death, carnage and pain. The man was dead, bled out from too many wounds, limbs at odd angles and his neck broken. A huge spike had been driven through his chest, destroying heart, lungs and shattering the spine and ribs. If he hadn't died of that, it was the broken neck, whatever had come first. Sonsos had really made sure all life was extinguished.

This time there was no doubt about Gideon's departure from this plane of existence. He might have escaped execution, faked his death, but not the wrath of this place.

Vizla still checked for life signs, but there was nothing. He sneered at the man in the black Imperial uniform that identified him as one of the many old warlords out there trying to resurrect a dead empire.

"Gone?" Raga asked.

He nodded. "For good."

As if that was the cue, the ground moved, blackened vines dragging the body under. Raga whispered a curse, but she didn't sound afraid; more awed.

Others gathered, all bearing the markings of a fight to the death which they had survived. And all stood tall and proud in the glow of their victory. They didn't approach the two unconscious men, wary and respectful of what Sonsos had done.

"What about Din and Corin?" Raga asked. "We can't leave them here."

Paz slowly approached, ready in case the plant reacted aversely, but he wasn't stopped. He carefully checked his clan brother, then Din's husband. Alive. Breathing, though barely. Badly injured. All the horrible wounds wrapped by leafs.

"We need to get them to safety," she added.

"I'd say they're pretty much safe here." Paz nodded at the nightmarish things.

"We can't leave them here!" she repeated. "No offense, planet," Raga added, addressing Sonsos in general.

"Didn't say that," Paz replied. "The question is, are we allowed to?"

The plant-things protecting the child snarled, but they moved back, giving them access to the unconscious foundling. The Vines that had almost cocooned the two men slowly withdrew, revealing the gel-soaked forms. Paz was very much aware of the countless eyes on them, how closely they were all watched and judged. One wrong move and there would be more death.

Getting them on board was easier than he would have thought. Especially since both remained unconscious and the child slept on.

As the ship took off to head to the Djarin homestead, Raga shuddered as she watched the jungle grow over the place where Moff Gideon and his Deathtroopers had perished.

Everywhere else, the scars of the battle were still very much visible. She had no idea how long it would take for Sonsos to heal or even start healing. Right now everyone was fighting to put out the fires and it was already showing effect.

Paz, who was in the ship carrying their wounded clan mates, was on the comm, talking to the Mandalorians patrolling the worst hot spots. There were also reports coming in from the Imperial and the ARC, the second ARC needing extensive repairs and unsafe to fly.

They had things under control.

Good.

One less worry.

Din briefly regained consciousness as they landed outside the farm house. Raga and some others had arrived first, to see how bad everything was.

It was horrendously bad.

There was nothing left. Half of the building had collapsed, the other half was blackened and mostly burned.

Paz was cursing up a storm in Mando'a, surveying what had once been Din Djarin's home on this planet.

"What about the village?" Raga asked pragmatically.

He shook his head. "No."

"I don't think anyone there means them harm." And those three fighters must have come from somewhere. "We can guard them."

Another headshake. "No."

"Ideas?" she wanted to know, accepting his decision.

"The ship's a temporary solution."

"But not the best and not the most comfortable. We have no idea how bad they're off, what they might need. Sonsos took care of some of it, but how much? How about I find that medic? The village isn't that far."

Paz expelled a breath. "Alright. Find him. Then we see what we can do about finding somewhere for those three to heal."

As he walked back into the ship he found a struggling Din Djarin trying to get up. The man was mostly out of armor, except the helmet, and all of him was caked in this weird healing gel and leaf bandages that seemed to be alive. Paz had seen one of it twitch or move. It was all that held him together, it appeared, and Corin didn't look any better.

"Relentless bastard," he growled under his breath, but not with a certain kind of fondness. "Stay down!" he snapped at the man.

"I can walk!" Din told him, breathing ragged, clearly not in any condition to be up and about, let alone walk.

"You can't," Paz replied evenly and pulled the smaller Mandalorian up.

Djarin nearly fell over right away, a groan leaving his lips.

"Told ya."

"Corin…"

"Alive. Sleeping. As you should."

"Can't."

"You can and you will. Here. Until we can find somewhere better. There's nothing to walk to. They destroyed the farm."

Din drew a ragged breath, his body clearly fighting to stay conscious. He was trembling hard. He was a fighter, a man who had been on his own hunting a bounty or being hunted, forced to take care of himself. No back-up, no help to be expected. Whatever had been thrown at him, whatever injuries he had sustained, he had had to handle them himself.

Not anymore.

Not this time.

"Din," Paz said, sounding almost imploring, voice softening. "You are safe. We will guard you and your family. We are not leaving. _Gar shuk kyrayc_ – you're no use dead."

"I…" He broke off. "Thank you," he finally whispered roughly.

Paz caught him as he collapsed, as if all strings had been cut, and he carefully maneuvered him back onto the bed.

"Stubborn idiot," he murmured, sounding more fond than anything else.

It took Raga a while to get to the village and back, but she was the company of the medic. The rest of the Mandalorians had gone over their worst scrapes and bruises and Paz was relieved to know no one had suffered any more serious injuries.

Vizla had met the medic once, heard more about him.

"Anyone need help?" the man asked, no-nonsense. His eyes ran over Vizla's armor, taking in the damage, clearly looking for more physical damage.

"We're good."

"What about Djarin?"

Yep, right to the point. He could probably guess what had happened.

"We need somewhere for them to stay until they find a new place." He nodded at the destroyed house.

"How badly were they injured?"

Paz took the medic into the ship and watched with sharp eyes as he checked first Corin, then Din. He had carried a scanner with him, running the small device over each man and looking at the read-out screen. The expression in the man's face said it all. This was serious; more than a few scrapes and bruises.

"There's a place not far from here. You can take the ship. They'll have the peace and quiet they need." His heavy brows rose a little.

"Alright. Show us."

The 'place' was another farm, but there was a second, smaller house next to the main building. Paz quickly checked the area and he was pleased to see how his team swarmed out, took up positions, securing the place.

The owner's name was Vhon and he didn't bat an eye at the request.

They cleared space in the bedroom and placed the two men onto the bed. Din was conscious again, too stubborn to just give in to his physical needs, but he was too out of it to really help them move him. Paz didn't listen to his fellow warrior's complaints as he stripped off the armor, leaving the helmet on.

Din could take that off when they were alone. No one would enter the room, giving them their privacy, but someone would always stay in the house to guard their clan members.

The medic checked them again, grunting to himself as he straightened. What Paz had seen of Din's injuries, peeking out from under the plant bandages, was bad enough already. Only the bruises were uncovered, the rest was sealed shut.

"This will take a while. The leafs will stay on until everything's healed, then fall off on their own. It's as good as bacta, maybe even better."

"It's the planet?"

"Sonsos, yes. It… likes them."

Vizla snorted a little laugh. "Yeah. We could see that. So this is okay?"

"Yes. It's keeping them alive. Let them rest. Both should be woken every few hours, to feed them liquids. Same for the child."

The baby had been placed into a makeshift crib. It was sleeping deeply and looked unharmed, though there were a few bruises.

"Call if something changes for the worse. You need anything, let us know," the medic said neutrally.

"We're good."

Another nod.

He stayed for a moment longer, checking out two deeper wounds of one Mandalorian warrior and applying medication.

"You know where to find me." And he simply walked off again.


	35. Chapter 35

The Mandalorians quickly and efficiently set up camp, clearing up dead matter as they did so. No amount of bacta could heal what had been destroyed, but there were signs of healing nevertheless. The organism was recovering, but now and then tiny tremors shook the ground, almost too faint to feel, but their instruments registered them.

Air patrols reported all fires had been extinguished. There were no more hotspots and they had stopped dousing the wreckage with water. There had been no survivors reported, though Paz wouldn't put it past one tenacious Trooper to still make it out there. Sonsos was lethal and would strike at whatever threatened it, but maybe a lone survivor might sneak through.

Corin, if he was still an Imp, might have been a candidate for that. Paz almost laughed at the idea.

Vines moved along the fences and walls of the land, plants grew and flowered into impressively fanged heads, watching. Even in its wounded state, Sonsos wouldn't stand down.

The dead bodies had disappeared. All of them. Some of his clan had reported seeing them getting dragged underground.

Paz supposed that nutrients were needed and he was pragmatic enough to understand what was happening. He didn't think about it too deeply. Part of him knew that those who had fought against them might just be like Corin: drafted into service for the credits they needed, maybe supporting a family, maybe just trying to survive. Others had been fanatics who would fight to the end for their lost Empire.

It was wrong to attach a face to an enemy, to know a story.

He knew Corin's. He knew his face. He knew what he had been and what he was now. But the other man was one of them. He was a warrior, Mandalorian clan, Din Djarin's family. To imagine his face behind one of the many helmets would only end in nightmares and doubts, Vizla knew. It would make him hesitate, would get him killed.

So he pushed those thoughts aside and went about his work.

Raga took some of the clan and went back to the destroyed farm to take another look at what might have survived the attack.

They came back with boxes they had unearthed from the basement, which had survived mostly intact. The supplies were stacked in their temporary home.

She also found the two surviving kyios, too. Vhon took care of returning them to his farm, checking the two animals and declaring them unharmed. He would stable them at his place until Din and Corin could return to their own home.

*

His mind was like slush, moving lazily, cataloguing his condition.

Aching. Bruised. Exhausted. Thirsty. Slightly sick. Headache creeping up his spine.

Din had no idea how long he had been in and out of consciousness. His memories of the last hours..? … days…? were filled with a few holes. He knew they had been attacked. Both him and Corin had taken the child out into the jungle, far away from the farm, training with him and Sonsos.

There had been several explosions.

Then Sonsos had screamed in pain and fury.

And then all hell had broken lose.

The Mandalorian clearly remembered the black-armored war-lord, one of the leftover Moffs of the old Empire.

Things were a little more sketchy after that, aside from remembering that they had fought.

Din felt a jolt run through him.

Paz. Paz Vizla. And the others. His tribe. He remembered the tribe. They had… come?

He tried to sit up and struggled with the all-encompassing weakness he felt. There was little to no pain, but he still felt sore. He saw that he was covered in plant-life, which was testimony to how badly it had ended for him, for them.

Din looked at his husband, who was sleeping deeply at his side, equally covered in leaf bandages, then at the baby in the makeshift crib. He struggled out of bed and wobbled over to it. The child was out like a light, but breathing normally. Din reached out and touched the fuzzy head, brushing his bandaged fingers tenderly over the skin.

Warm, living skin.

He smiled, so very relieved.

The Imperial remnants had come for them again, had found them on Sonsos, and this time it had been so much worse.

There was a barely perceptible touch, a brush so faint it showed how weak Sonsos itself was. It pushed at his mind, urging him to rest, to heal. He closed his eyes, shivering with the gentle contact. The mind-touch was like a caress, like an embrace. It was almost loving, but there was also a raggedness to the contact that was testimony to the planet's catastrophic condition.

The child made soft noises, twitching a little in his sleep. Din opened his eyes and picked him up, wrapped in all the blankets from the bed, and returned to Corin.

Something flowed over his exhausted mind again. Safe. He was safe. He could rest. The tribe was here, Sonsos was guarding them all, despite the pain it was battling itself, and no one had dared approach their current home.

He felt a tremor run through him and he caught the swelling emotions, shoving them away. His body was starting to shake and he suppressed a groan.

The world had nearly ended. His world; the world that contained his husband and his child. A world that also included a whole planet. Sonsos was in a bad state, had been burned and torn to pieces in so many places, it was a small miracle it wasn't insane with pain.

Din curled closer to Corin, resting a hand on his stomach, feeling it move with every breath. The child lay between them, alive and whole.

They were alive and whole.

It was almost too much to take. Physically as well as mentally they had been driven to the breaking point and then beyond, tethering over an abyss that had nearly swallowed them.

Din Djarin closed his eyes, fighting the rising emotions, the tightness, the cry that wanted to get out. The child whimpered and Din exhaled sharply, fighting the turmoil. He stroked over the child's head, whispering softly in Mando'a.

It quieted down again. The Mandalorian finally drifted off himself, out like a light not much later.

*

As not otherwise expected, the child had nightmares. At least Corin thought it was a nightmare that woke him, that had the little one whimper and then quietly burble to itself. Small hands clenched into his shirt and he pulled his son close, pressing dry lips against the soft baby skin. He didn't wonder why the kid was in bed with them. He suspected Din had woken briefly and taken the child to bed.

"It's okay," he whispered.

The large ears were drawn back, almost flat against the head.

Corin cupped the small body as he sat up, back against the wall behind the bed. "We're okay. You're okay."

Another quiet whimper.

Yes, they had been badly hurt and he knew without the entity they would have died. It was a simple fact. Almost all of him was covered in plant-life that was his second skin, that kept him pain-free, that had knitted not only skin but also bones together. It didn't even faze him, didn't so much as get a tremor of unease. Corin didn't really want to think about how deep the help went. He knew he had been hit by a precision kill shot to the chest and something had kept him from dying.

Had kept Din from dying, too.

And he doubted that slapping a few band-aids on their skin had helped them survive. Yes, this was going so much deeper and still… it didn't really bother him. His whole world collapsed and then realigned itself in one.

The child cried softly, hiccupping sobs that wrenched at his heart. His small hands were tightly buried in Corin's shirt, the claws almost punching holes into the fabric. It was all coming out now; everything. He whispered nonsense words to the little being, rocking him.

It was the first time the child had ever cried. He had been through so much in his young life. A long life by human standards, but he was still only a toddler. No one had any idea if he had lived with his parents until he had ended up in the hands of those hunters. No one knew where he came from, how much he had already seen and experienced before the Mandalorian had claimed his 'asset'.

Corin only knew that until now, there had been no typical reactions to stress, abuse and the ever-present danger. This time, it came. This time, all the stress broke free.

Closing his eyes, Corin let the child cry himself out. It had to come out. No one could go through so much emotional and physical pain and not break apart. The child was just a baby and he had been through more than most adults ever would or ever had been. His own childhood hadn't been all fun and games, especially when he came of age and his father and uncle decided it was time for Corin Valentis to join the ranks.

He stroked over the trembling little body, projecting warmth and love. He felt the flailing empathic touch, finally caught it and held on. He was a passive anchor, unable to touch in return, but he knew he was important to him nevertheless.

He breathed slowly, almost in a meditative state, trying to keep his mind calm, be the well of neutral energy the little one needed.

After some time the child calmed down and opened his eyes. Large, dark, wet eyes. He gave it a soft smile, reassuring and warm, brushing the tears away. It cooed.

Corin smiled. "Yeah. We're okay."

The child released its tight grip and reached out. He took a finger, felt the strengthening empathic connection. He relaxed, opened his mind, let the kid anchor itself as it always did without either of the two men who were its null-zones feeling it. Right now Corin felt something, but it was also because part of Sonsos was also very much attached to him.

"We're okay," he whispered again.

The child agreed, warbling ever-so softly. He bowed his head until his forehead touched the kid's. He listened to the uneven breaths finally calming down, adjusted his own breathing to it, continuously projecting the serenity.

"You did incredible out there," Corin murmured, voice barely a breath, most of it more thought than verbal. "I'm so proud."

Sonsos shivered in the back of his mind.

The damage done to planet had been immense. Wide expanses of jungle had been blasted apart by the attack, then burned some more by grenades and flame-throwers.

Corin could almost taste the pain the organism had been in and still was experiencing. The empathic waves were muted, as if it was trying not to swamp them with everything it felt, but it was there.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For everything."

The presence was almost overwhelming, bristling and razor-sharp. Corin screwed his eyes shut, riding out the oppressive brush of a huge, powerful mind against his, then it was gone again.

A soft apology followed in its wake.

Corin felt it reach out, endless threads entwining with the energy field all around them, the Force. Yes, it would heal, but it still hurt him in turn to know what had been done. This would take a while to heal, but the planet wasn't defenseless. It was a gigantic organism and the part that had been destroyed didn't even make up for a fifth of it. Still, it was a lot.

"Thank you. You saved us again. You kept us alive. You owe us nothing and you risked your life…"

The presence grew once more, but not as overpowering any longer. So much stronger, but not even close to what it had been before. A low but inaudible rumble seemed to surround them, like a distant thunder that couldn't be heard, only felt.

Corin swallowed. He met the dark eyes of his child, so solemn and older than his actual age, reflecting a peaceful calmness.

"Why us? Why risk destruction because of us?"

::This cannot destroy me. It's the skin. It's the surface. It hurts, like it hurts you to be cut and burned::

"Still, it hurts…"

It wasn't their fault, he heard. They had done nothing wrong. It would heal and it could heal. The surface was just… the surface. The very core of Sonsos was unharmed and still powerful.

::He belongs here. With you:: Sonsos stated with words, pushing the emotion toward Corin. ::You belong::

The child belonged here, with this powerful entity that was force-sensitive in a way no Jedi would ever understand or be capable of seeing. It was already powerful, at this early stage of its life, and it had found what it needed in his family and home.

The child chirped softly, small hands stroking Corin's face.

Yes, they belonged here.

And Sonsos would make sure the child would grow up, that its chosen family would continue to be his foundation and grounding force.

No matter the cost.

"Why?" he whispered, stunned.

Because they mattered to the ancient entity. Because it liked them. Did Corin need any other reason?

No. No, he didn't. He had fought and bled for Din and the child for the very same reasons.

Just…

This was… a whole planet!

The child burbled softly and he kissed its head, still curled around it, still holding the small form close.

Don't think about it too deeply. Just accept.

Yeah, it might be the best state of mind for him right now. Corin closed his eyes, the child's head under his chin, small hands curled into his shirt.

*

Sometimes the dreams were extremely vivid.

They came out of nowhere, from the dark recesses of his mind. They stole across his sleeping mind, defenseless against the memories they brought, and they wreaked havoc.

Corin woke from the unease of the fading memories, unable to catch them clearly, but he knew he was going through the desperation, the pain, the despair, and the very real death he had been facing.

He knew that it wasn't just him alone. It was Din, the child, the very planet. They were sharing this together, the empathic connection flowing between them. The child couldn't shield himself. The emotions were too strong and he was just learning to deal with the horror of near-death and the agony it had experienced through Sonsos. The planet itself was healing countless physical wounds and sometimes empathic waves simply spilled over.

It didn't mean to make Corin or Din its target, just like their kid didn't want to hurt them, but it happened.

They would have to work on that. Learn how to shield, even though they weren't force-sensitive.

Din’s fingers stroked over Corin’s tousled hair, like an automatic reflex to comfort. He was equally awake, dark eyes filled with mirrored emotions.

“Bad dream,” he sighed.

"I know," the Mandalorian murmured.

Of course he did. Because he felt it, too.

The fingers were sliding over his head and neck.

"We need to learn how to shield," Corin muttered.

"We can't. We are passive. The child is too young to have his shields perfected. Only Sonsos has a measure of control."

Which sometimes broke. Nothing of the like had happened to the entity before now. It was dealing with something absolutely new to it and accidents happened.

Corin turned and buried his face in the warmth of Din's shirt. He wrapped an arm around his waist and held on, letting the sensation of touch chase away the images of blood, pain and loss.

“What time is it?” he mumbled against the warmth.

“Four hours until sunrise.”

He groaned and tightened his hold. He didn’t feel like he could sleep again; he was tired nevertheless.

Din kissed his hair. It was tender, loving… private. And incredibly intimate.

He pushed a hand under the old shirt to feel warm skin, smooth and only sometimes interrupted by the familiar ridges of the scars. It was reassuring, like the touch alone chased away the icy cold teeth that had buried themselves in his mind.

It was.

It was more than enough.

Corin spread his fingers over the scars, just feeling.

Din was silent, palms caressing, a slow slide over his arm and shoulder, his side.

 _I love you_ , Corin thought, feeling his thoughts getting heavier. Sleepier.

He closed his eyes, let the solid presence of Din lull him into a relaxed doze. His caress was reassuring and warm. Simply _there_. It was a fact, like Din was an unmovable fact in his life.


	36. Chapter 36

The rain was coming down in sheets, drowning everything as it washed over the landscape. The weather had changed two days ago, a day after the planet had taken down a warship, and the rain had started the night before. Up until then it had been clouds, little to no sunshine and winds picking up. Now and then there were sharp gusts, but with the rain, it was now rather unpleasant to be out and about.

Sonsos was bathing in the coolness, a relief to its wounds, clearing away ash and burned debris. The kyios actually enjoyed the weather. Despite being totally drenched, they stayed outside instead of seeking shelter.

"How bad is it?"

Paz watched as Corin gingerly lowered himself onto the roughly hewn bench on the porch, looking like he had gone ten rounds against a rancor and won.

"Look who rose from the dead," he teased.

Corin grimaced. He had been awake a few times, but aside from a few basic things like eating and cleaning himself up, neither he nor Din had been capable of a lot more. Paz knew that his fellow Mandalorian was the worse off of those two, that he had really been so close to death, he had probably flatlined.

Corin was still bandaged, but what skin was visible looked bruised. There were abrasions on his face, a cut along one temple, and what wasn't colorful was absolutely ghastly gray. Paz had to admire the tenacity of the man. He truly had the heart and soul of a Mandalorian. He was a worthy equal to Din Djarin.

Corin had come out of the bedroom a few minutes ago, looking a bit surprised by their presence, but not overly alarmed. Raga had told him where they were a few times in the past, but he had been too out of it to understand. Now he had taken it in a stride.

He had carried the sleepy child, looking for food that wasn't a frog or lizard, and one of the Mandalorians had found something in the cabinets that the kid had eaten. Then it had fallen asleep again.

When Corin had limped outside, Paz had wordlessly offered to take the little guy out of his hands to ease the strain the man was already under. Corin hadn't so much as hesitated, giving the precious bundle of blankets to Paz. The child hadn't so much as stirred.

"No damage to the settlements or any of the outlying farms," Paz answered him, voice soft, though he doubted anything but another attack could wake the baby. "We checked. The villages held their own. The fires are out. The jungle is… well, not exactly growing, but I think it's absorbing the destroyed areas."

Corin grimaced, looking pained, then winced. The cut along his jaw must have been deep, though it was now closed and crusted over. The thin green threads that kept it shut were clearly not standard treatment. Nothing of this was standard in any way, Paz mused. But whatever had kept them alive was a good thing in his opinion.

For a while there was only the sound of the rain, sluicing off the slightly inclined porch roof, beating against the already muddy ground, forming puddles. Paz was looking at the bundle in his arm. This precious little foundling who held such incredible power; the power of their enemies, but not an enemy. His gloved fingers adjusted the blankets and he smiled behind his helmet as he watched the child sleep.

"Saw some really terrifying stuff growing left and right around here. Never thought a plant could put on battle gear, but this one is," he said quietly.

Yes, there was a lot of new plant life sprouting around Vhon's farm. It looked like a small army of sentinels that had set up guard. Vhon himself didn't appear the slightest bit worried, the kyios weren't scared by the predatory plants, and the Manalorians gave them a wide berth.

Corin was clearly aware of what was happening because he snorted a little. "Sonsos is… on edge."

"Yeah. This thing brought down a ship out of the atmosphere," Vizla went on. "It's the craziest and most terrifying thing I've ever seen."

"Probably."

"And it kept you alive."

Corin nodded slowly. His fingers brushed over the bright green and purple leaf that covered all of his left forearm like a second skin. His hands were free, but the pale skin showed scrapes and bruises. There were many more of those bandages in more places than Vizla wanted to think about. They had stripped down the other man, removing the armor, the torn, burned and slashed clothes, and they had found only the second skin that seemed to act like bacta.

The same had been true for Din.

"The kid okay?" Paz asked, brushing a finger over the blanketed baby.

"Bruised. Strained his powers a lot. Not sure what he did, but he did it with all he was capable of. He has… bad dreams, I guess. He needs to sleep and heal."

"Just like your _riduur_?" he teased gently.

Corin chuckled softly. "Yes."

"Din's a stubborn ass when it comes to admitting weakness."

"Mandalorians," Corin sighed, blue eyes filled with merciless teasing of his own for a second.

The large Mandalorian laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "He was worse off than you. Your medic friend dropped by, helped treat some minor stuff. Otherwise it's been silent."

There was no sign of the rain letting off.

"Are you going to stay?" Corin asked quietly after a long time.

"For now," the Mandalorian answered.

As long as the planet tolerated them. Right now Sonsos saw no need to push them off, to suggest they finally leave. Maybe because it needed protection? Paz somehow doubted it, but the Mandalorians might be useful for Sonsos right now. He had no idea if there was much in the way of defense left at the moment.

"How did you know we needed your help?" Corin asked the question that had probably been burning on his mind..

"The Guild had been keeping an ear out for who was behind the bounty. The guy Din had been dealing with had been the puppet. Taking him out hadn't cut off the head and we wanted the head. Karga gave us a name one day. Gideon. More stuff made it to us, from the inside. He was with the Imperial Secret Bureau, rose through the ranks, made it to marshal and finally sector governor."

Corin blinked, clearly working through the information. "Wait… What do you mean: from the inside?"

"You made quite an impact."

"What?!" His voice rose. "I did nothing!"

Paz wanted to laugh at the shocked and also disbelieving expression. The man had no idea what had happened in the time since he had turned his back on his old employer. He had not a single clue.

"You turned your back on the Empire, Corin," he said out loud. "You are a bad and a good example. You deserted, you evaded capture, you fought back."

He stared at the Mandalorian, eyes wide. "I…"

"You're a bad example for those old warlords. You developed a conscience. You went against orders, aided the enemy, didn't capture and hand over the asset and the Mandalorian who stole it."

"B-but…"

"Don't tell me any Snowtrooper would just help an enemy of the Empire, someone on the run, someone who had what a high-ranking Imp wants."

"Uhm, probably… not?"

"Definitely not. They're all drones. They follow orders. You are different."

The blue eyes looked away and he saw a tension in the way Corin held himself, the tension associated with memories from his past. As much as Paz had teased and taunted him, he was aware that wherever Corin came from, it hadn't been happy memories all the way. No one had only happy memories.

"You are a good different," he added. "And not just because you're a pretty face."

Corin looked up, mouth opening, then shutting again.

Paz chuckled. "He doesn't tell you often enough, I suspect."

"Uhm…"

He had to grin, even though Corin couldn't say it. "Geez, Corin, you and the asshole need to work on your marriage."

"We're doing just fine."

"Riiight," he snorted. "I call you pretty and you look like you have no idea."

"I'm not…?"

Paz rolled his eyes and groaned. "Really. You need to work on your words. Din has. But we digress. This was about your influence on others like you. You're the best example for those among the remnant ranks who have doubt."

"But… I'm no one! I was no one and still am no one! You said it yourself: I'm a drone!"

"Was. You were a drone. You're a lot more now, Corin Djarin. You are one of us. You are special to Din, to the foundling, and you have a whole planet that will rise to your defense." Paz chuckled deeply as he took in the confused expression in a very bruised face. "Don't think too much about it. It helped us. Because of that we knew what was going to happen. We had the intel and we used it."

"Thank you," he said, voice low and serious. "For everything."

"We stand by our family, our clan, our tribe. We protect our family, our clan, our tribe. We raise our weapons and we will fight for them." Paz's voice was strong, his words almost like a vow.

Corin gave him a thankful smile. It reflected exhaustion, too. The child moved, murmuring, but he kept sleeping.

"Get some more rest. You might feel okay, but I bet it's just whatever Sonsos did and is still doing." Paz nodded at the child. "We'll keep an eye on him."

"But…"

"Corin," he said patiently. "Foundlings are the clan's responsibility if the parent is injured or otherwise indisposed. We will take care of him because he is one of ours, too. I am his uncle, right? I can take care of him."

The stubborn line between his eyes stayed. "He can sleep with us."

Paz sighed and it very much sounded like Din's sighs. He caught himself before laughing. Yes, he sounded like Din Djarin.

"Corin, get back in there and go to bed. You need to heal, just like that stubborn bastard you call a _riduur_. We like the little guy. We'll keep him entertained, fed and clean. Deal?"

Corin gave a weak chuckle. "Deal."

Paz watched closely as Corin labored to his feet and limped back inside. The child didn't stir and he carefully shifted back to quietly enjoying the rain-drenched landscape.

"You have some really stubborn and obstinate parents, kid."

The child mumbled something that was barely audible and Paz lovingly adjusted the blanket again.

Yeah, they fit each other pretty well.

Raga came by an hour later and joined him without a word. When the baby started to wake, Paz stroked over the fuzzy-haired head, drawing a soft mumble. Large, dark eyes blinked open, not the least bit distressed at not seeing either of his parents. Paz tilted his head.

"Well, look who's awake," he said.

It got him a coo, then a warbled question.

"Your parents are sleeping. We're not going to wake them. Hungry?"

The large eyes lit up and Raga chuckled. "I take that as a yes."

Paz rumbled a laugh and rose. "Let's see what we can find."

*

They lay together, a tangle of limbs, Corin's head on Din's shoulder. His eyes were closed, his breathing calm and regular, and Din's fingers lightly rested on the dark head.

He wasn’t tired enough again to sleep, but exhausted enough that he was unable to think clearly. His head ached a little and the injuries started to pull. It wasn't the pain that he should be in after such terrible injuries, thanks to the numbing effect of the leaf bandages, but there was discomfort and it was rising.

Corin twitched against him, but it didn't feel like a nightmare. Din just ran a caress over the warm neck, listening to a soft sigh. He himself couldn't sleep, even though he was tired and hadn't really been able to rest. His body was battered and broken in so many places, held together by vines and leaf bandages, numbed against the pain, but he couldn't sleep.

He knew he was worse off than Corin, much worse, but he didn't feel like it, aside from the exhaustion.

Sonsos' careful touch informed him that yes, he was held together by a lot of interwoven vines and hair thin threads inside and out, and that the leaf bandages numbed the pain. The exhaustion was the only sign of what his body was going through and he should heed those warnings. There was only so much the entity could do for him until his whole body might break down to enforce more rest.

Din slid his fingers into the dark strands and pressed his lips to the tousled hair. Corin relaxed against him, the tension bleeding out of his frame.

He would rest. He would trust in his tribe to protect them, care for the child, or them. Even if it went against everything he was, against every instinct he possessed.

There was a murmur and suddenly the blue eyes cracked open. One was still a little bloodshot.

"Din?" he murmured, voice soft. "You're awake?"

He smiled at him. "Yes."

"Hungry?"

He considered the question. "No." Just still so exhausted from it all. "The child?"

"With his uncle."

"Paz?"

Corin huffed. "There's only the one. He told me to get my pretty face back to you."

Din blinked, a hot flash of something rousing him a little more. "What?!"

Corin groaned. "Sleep."

"He said what?"

"Din…" he begged.

The Mandalorian hissed out a breath.

"You really want to get jealous over your asshole clan brother telling me to go back to you?"

Din felt tired again.

"Sleep, please," Corin begged.

"Can't," he answered truthfully.

Corin grumbled. "We're okay. We're safe."

He knew that. The tribe was here. He was protected and safe. Corin sighed deeply, as if reading his mind. His hands fisted into the loose shirt.

"You know, Sonsos talks to me, too."

Din hummed.

"I know you're a lot worse off than me. A lot. You're held together by so much flora, you're half plant. So close your eyes and get the kriff to sleep!"

He almost laughed. "Yes, sir."

"Shuddup. I love you. Just shut up."

Now Din did laugh softly. "I love you, too."

He fell asleep after some time after all.

And he slept for over twelve hours.


	37. Chapter 37

The presence of his tribe had eased something in Din that he hadn't been aware of being so knotted and tense. Just being among his family helped. He knew what they had done for him, how they had come to fight their battle with them.

He had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like a week and he still felt battered, bruised and very worn. That alone told him that what he felt like and what had really happened to his body were two completely different scenarios. Corin was better off, more coherent, more there. Where Din had slept almost nonstop, Corin had managed to string a few words together and had taken care of their child. They had both almost died, but for Din the aftermath had been worse. The tribe had been only too happy to fuss over the foundling, even though the child slept every time after a feeding.

When he made it out of bed, had freshened up, still covered from head to toe in plant matter, his insides still held together by a net of threads, it was late afternoon. The weather had cooled, but it was still nowhere near freezing. The rain had stopped, there was a low-hanging fog in the air, and the air was fresh and clear.

Din let his eyes roam over the unfamiliar farm land. Vhon's place had come away completely unscathed, unlike his own home, which was destroyed. 

He knew the other Mandalorians had helped clear the mess that Sonsos itself hadn't already gotten rid of. They had removed foreign matter from the charred landscape, leaving the organism to handle its wounds. The injured planet had swallowed the bodies of its enemies, but the weapons, gear and transportation of any kind had remained. They had gathered whatever wasn't a burned piece of twisted and useless metal and piled it together. The for the Mandalorians unsalvageable remains were in another pile. The weapons were their spoils and everything else might be useful later.

"Met some interesting people in that little town," Paz said as he checked his weapons.

He had found the large man outside on the porch of their current home. Din felt naked and unprotected without his armor, despite the presence of people he knew and trusted. The helmet was the only part of his armor left to him, the only confession to who he was. Wearing armor was part of who the Mandalorians were, but right now he had to follow a different rule. Sonsos was doing whatever it could to heal his skin and any kind of armor would be a severe hindrance.

"People with interesting states of minds," Vizla added, smirking audibly.

"Those who come here are… unique."

"And stoically accepting. We drew looks, but no one so much as twitched. This Vhon guy… same type. My guess: Imp."

Din tilted his head a little.

Paz snorted. "Don't tell me you're not getting the same vibes. Well, not like Corin's, for sure. But similar. He was an Empire guy." He leaned forward a little. "Yours is just better on the eyes."

Din just about held back snarling at the other Mandalorian. Paz was clearly smirking. It was readable in every line of his body.

"And you need to tell your better half, Djarin. He gets too easily flustered when complimented."

"Fuck off," Din said pleasantly.

It got him a whole-hearted laugh. "You want some pointers? Let me know. No idea how you got him to accept vows when you're so emotionally stunted, Djarin. The guy is a looker and you know it. I saw you walk into a wall once."

Din refused to be baited any more.

Vizla chortled and snapped the blaster together with smooth, practiced moves. He leaned back, looking relaxed, though not totally at ease. Every Mandalorian knew to always be alert, even when appearing relaxed.

"We traded off some of the scrap for really tasty food supplies," Paz changed topics back. "No questions, except whether or not we needed some help and would we like some more."

"Like I said: unique."

"They also love to trade and barter. Someone mentioned he'd get a crew together for the right to the metal heap that's the TIE fighter."

Din nodded. "Good deal."

"They started yesterday," Paz said conversationally.

Djarin blinked in surprise, face thankfully hidden underneath the helmet. "Okay," he finally murmured.

More tension eased. He could still provide for the Covert, even here, even after such a horrendous battle that had cost them all. He could help them, thank them in his own way.

"Take it all," he said softly.

Paz grunted. "We didn't come here to get paid."

"I know."

"We also don't expect to get paid. We laid claim to the weapons of our enemies, but we trade off the rest. No one cares about the scrap metal heaps, but those villagers seem to know what to do with that. So we gave it to them. Free. No idea what you want to use those charred metal coals for, but if they want them, sure. No problem. And it helps the planet recover."

"Thank you."

"Hey, they took out some twenty-something Imps, then launched three fighters to help us bring down the warship." Paz tilted his head. "One of them being an Imperial. Not sure it was this Vhon guy. Haven't seen that fighter since."

"Everyone here has a past." Din had no idea who that guy might have been, but he knew there were former Imperials in that village. None of them had come forth to identify him- or herself, and no one had called Corin out on his own past, except the medic.

"And I've never been more glad. It saved our hides." The other Mandalorian regarded him for a while, then gestured at the still wrapped arm. "How's that working out?"

"No pain. Discomfort, yes. I know it was… bad. I have no idea what it looks like underneath, but somehow I don't think I would want to."

It got him a snort of amusement. "Interesting band-aid. The gelatinous substance was a bit… weird."

"It's effective."

"I'll give you that." He looked at Din. "Some of us have already returned to Nevarro."

"I understand," he said slowly, feeling a strange kind of twisting inside his gut.

"We'll be leaving soon, too."

Just like the last time, it was almost painful to be reminded of it. Din just nodded, not letting on what the tribe leaving did to him.

"The tribe stands by your side, Din Djarin. Always."

He inclined his head almost formally.

"And the Armorer mentioned we might be moving the Covert out of the underground of Nevarro."

He stared at the other man, rallying to understand what was being said. "Where to?"

"Not sure yet."

Din had no idea whether or not Sonsos was listening in, but he sent a fervent wish that the entity should consider allowing his tribe to relocate here.

All he got was a gentle shiver.

It suggested that Sonsos might think about it.

"I'm not leaving before we can get an all-clear on you two," Paz added. "You might have a whole planet there to keep an eye on you, but it's been injured, too."

"Thank you," he only said quietly.

" _Oya manda, Din Djarin_. We stand together. Planet and all."

Sonsos perked up, intrigued and fascinated by the proclamation. Din just felt that warmth associated with the loyalty of his tribe, of the people he had grown up with, the people he trusted blindly in battle. Those who had come to his aid when he had taken back the child and tried to save it.

" _Oya manda_ ," he echoed.

*

It took the child a little longer than usual to finally be back to its old self, to be more awake than asleep, and to sleep peacefully when he did. He had really given all he had, had poured everything into helping Sonsos, and had just now recovered. But it showed his development, how much he had mastered what he could do through his training, and what might become of him if his powers kept developing at the same rate.

In that time Paz had kept a close eye on the little guy, playing with him when he was awake and wanted to be entertained, carrying him around whenever he was exhausted again and needed rest. Paz had him with him whenever he patrolled and he found out that the child loved it when he used his Rising Phoenix to fly. One of the Mandalorians had crafted a sturdy carrier for the child and how he sat safely attached to Paz's chest in a pouch that allowed the Mandalorian maneuverability and the child to cheerfully watch the jungle underneath.

Only when Din and Corin were finally out of the worst of it did Raga and Paz step back as the aunt and uncle.

The bruises on the green skin had faded, then disappeared. He cooed and chirped at Din as the man picked him up, smiling at the little green baby from behind his helmet.

"Still a little sleepy?" he asked softly.

There was a burble.

"Let's get you some food."

The dark eyes brightened.

Din fed him some of his favorite mashed up vegetables. The child ate it all and still looked hungry.

"Yeah, you really exerted yourself. But you did good. You helped."

He held out dried fruit and the kid stuffed it into his mouth in one piece, cheeks bulging. It looked proud and happy.

Din chuckled.

He could hear Corin outside, talking to Paz, which was a weird but welcome sight. The child squealed excitedly and made grabby arms. Corin's bright smile warmed Din's heart and he handed over their son, who babbled and cooed at his parent. Corin pressed a little kiss against the fuzzy-haired head.

"Hey," he whispered.

The child's hands tried to frame his face, those eyes too serious and too grown up.

"We're good."

It chirped.

Something bloomed inside him, something powerful and warm and overwhelming.

"Yeah, still really good."

Din felt the slightly uncoordinated empathic touch of his foundling and he reached out, taking one small hand between his fingers.

With a loose salute, Paz left them their space, their private time, and Corin briefly leaned against his Mandalorian, the child in his arms holding Din's finger. Din gently bumped his helmeted head against Corin's temple.

"We survived."

"Again," was the soft answer. "Sonsos…"

"Survived," Din said.

He felt the presence of the entity, muted and less there, but it was alive and healing, just like them.

The leaf bandages still hadn't fallen off like the last time they had been used, testimony how seriously ill they still were. They held their bodies together, felt like their own skin, and he didn't even think about how having a leafy green skin didn't really faze him at the moment. This was a protective suit. Almost like the old Stormtrooper undergarment, Corin had briefly remarked. And yes, it felt like an underarmor.

"The tribe is staying?" Corin murmured, sounding almost mellow.

"For a now."

"You want them to stay longer?"

He didn't answer, just set down his son and watched him waddle off, looking so much more awake and alert. So healthy and whole.

Corin took his gloved hand and squeezed. "Do you think the tribe even wants to relocate to this place?"

"I don't know."

"They are your family."

"You are, Corin."

"As are they," he insisted. "They are your clan, too. They came to help us. They saved us. They saved this world."

They briefly touched foreheads and Corin smiled.

"You miss them," he whispered.

Din didn't answer, but the tremor running through him was more than enough. Corin wrapped an arm around him, both standing as closely together as humanly possible, foreheads still touching.

No more words were spoken.

*

Corin was itching to have their own place again. Vhon's guest house was big enough to comfortably house the small clan, to have visitors, but it wasn't… home. It was someone else's place. Vhon was laid back and relaxed about their presence, about a tribe of Mandalorians camping out on his property, and several ships parked in the vicinity. He had told them a few times that he didn't mind and that they could stay as long as they wanted.

Moving into the Razor Crest wasn't an option, though if push came to shove, he would make do.

They had returned to the burned out ruin and had started to sift through it, though heavy labor was completely out of the question. Just walking for a longer stretch was tiring. Climbing through the ruin had Din exhausted and running on fumes, though he would never confess to it.

Corin just gently prodded him to sit down and take a break. He was in better shape, thankfully.

The basement had survived, which was a good thing. The rest had caved under what had to be a direct hit from the warship of the TIE fighter.

"This will take a while," Corin muttered.

Din regarded the ruin somberly. "Yes."

A long while. They had lost everything, though it was nothing that couldn't be replaced. In time. Everything within the house and the building itself hadn't really been theirs. They had just taken over from whoever had once resided here. The personal belongings were of no sentimental value. It was just… this had been their place; their home.

"I heard Paz talking about someone in the village offering to help rebuild."

Din nodded.

"I think I might know who that is."

"You would."

Corin grimaced at the gently teasing tone of voice. According to Din, he knew everyone by name. Corin was simply friendly and if someone talked about themselves, he would listen and share what he felt comfortable sharing. Yes, he had made possible friends, maybe allies, but he had never gone around introducing himself to every villager.

Then again, Din Djarin wouldn't have done any of that, comfortable to just know a person by face and maybe occupation. His own name was never dropped in a conversation and he never asked the one he was talking to.

They headed home before nightfall and both collapsed into bed soon after dinner. The child was already sleeping soundly

*

The village had been under attack from Stormtroopers, but it didn't look like anything had been destroyed; at least badly enough that repairs hadn't taken care of it. People nodded a greeting at Corin, much to his surprise, and no one pointed a finger or whispered.

They had fought back against an Imperial attack force, had bested them, had cleaned up, and gone about their lives.

Yes, he loved living here. It was so completely new, so absolutely unlike any place he had ever been to, and while the villagers appeared indifferent, they stood together against a common enemy, no matter who. And no matter who the actual target had been.

The first stop was the house of the local go-to guy for all kinds of handiwork. Corin had met him countless times before, they had talked, had shared a drink now and then, and he had traded parts for necessary tools and building materials for their renovations. He knew the guy had renovated homes for the villagers or had helped with renovations, so he hoped to get at least a little work in trade.

"Hey, Corin," he was greeted as he entered the building that not only contained a workshop but also a small hardware selection.

Corin knew that Jy'krah created all tools from scratch, if he needed them, and he stocked whatever parts he deemed necessary for any possible endeavors one might have. He also serviced droids or ships, though for ships there were more suited mechanics in this place or the other settlements.

"Hey, Jy'krah."

The yellow eyes regarded him closely, curiosity burning in them, but else no questions were asked.

"I need some help. Materials. Maybe hired work."

The man nodded. "Heard the farm was destroyed."

"Hard to miss, hm?"

"You didn't get lucky."

"Nope. We need to rebuild. One of Din's tribe probably talked to you already. He mentioned that you want the TIE fighter wreck, which I'm fine with. It's not much. There's more burned and unusable metal than anything else. We might have some stuff left for barter, though…"

Jy'krah held up a hand. "You already accumulated quite a savings account. I'd be glad to finally repay you."

Corin stared at him. "What? I didn't…"

"You told us to take what we want from the Gozanti class ship that came for you the first time. You didn't ask for anything in return. At that time, at least. Now you ask and I, and many others, would be happy to finally trade back."

"But…"

He raised his hand again. Corin fell silent, stunned. "The TIE fighter is a good deal. I'm leaving that to Liu. She'll get you everything you need for the interior. I'm still working with material from the first intruder. As for what your husband's tribe calls scrap metal: I'll be happy to take it off their hands. Some of it is worth more after melting it down and separating the metals. Let me take a look at what's left of the house. I'll make up a list, then call on those who I would need. You paid enough, Corin. We will finally trade back."

"Uhm…"

Jy'krah smiled, showing yellow, sharp teeth. "All of us are quite aware of what happened and we know what Sonsos did. It was hard not to feel the quakes, to hear the screams. No one alive has ever seen something like this before, and I doubt any of those who came before us have either. You are part of this world. More than anyone else ever has been."

He gestured at the visible leafs wrapped around his arms.

"I can't expect you to… to rebuild all of it!"

"You are free to help if you want. And there are the Mandalorians. I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

"I… I think so." Corin was reeling from what this meant, from what he had heard. "T-thank you."

"Then it is so. Let me lock up and we can have a look."

"Now?"

A shrug. "I've got time. Not much going on outside Trade Day, and that isn't happening today." Jy'krah smirked. "I could use a walk, too."

Corin waited for him to lock up, in a daze, thoughts whirling. He felt Sonsos' presence, a soft acknowledgement of Jy'krah's words.

They were part of this. More than anyone ever had been before. The village paid their respect to that fact and they accepted it without batting an eye.

_This is the way_ , Corin thought with faint hysterics worming through his mind. Somehow it fit. Somehow this world was following a Creed they didn't know anything about, but they had made up their own rules, abided their own laws, and it made them closer to the Mandalorians than anyone else might ever be.

Jy'krah walked out of the back room again, hefting a backpack. "Let's go," he said cheerfully.

And they went.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smallish chapter due to work... I didn't have as much time as I wanted, so... sorry?

Din was just as stunned as his husband had been when Jy'krah announced that they could easily rebuild the house. It wouldn't take all that long and the upgrades would be state of the art.

"Give me a day or two to make a list. I'll get the crew together, then we lay the groundwork. Can you guys clear the rubble?"

Paz nodded. "Easily."

Corin opened his mouth to say something, but both men just stared at him. Din's expression was hidden behind his visor, but Corin knew him too well, knew he was absolutely flabbergasted.

"You do that, I'll head back and see what we need." Jy'krah waved a goodbye and simply headed toward the village once more.

Paz and the other Mandalorians had helped clear the building site of what had been left of the house without argument, Paz telling both Corin and Din to take it easy and heal. So they had to stand by as the half of the house that had survived was torn down, then everything was cleared away. Jy'krah had told them to keep the bricks and metal that hadn't been pulverized because he might recycle it. Everything else would be piled far away and the handymen would decide if it really was a complete loss or might serve another purpose.

The child was happily watching the busy going-on, fascinated by the many people and clearly eager to stay as long as he was allowed to. According to Paz he could stay as long as he wanted and stayed safely away from the more dangerous building site.

It took a week for the basic structure of the house to stand in place of the old. The foundation was still absolutely sound, the basement so heavily reinforced that it hadn't taken any structural damage.

The stone walls were raised quickly and efficiently and Corin could only stare in awe. All amenities were added, the old, blow-up generators replaced, the recycling systems updated and reconnected, and soon they had a house in place of what had been a blackened carcass.

The inside was absolutely bare, but Jy'krah had brought a woman along who lived on one of the other settlements and she was willing to help furnish. He introduced her Onliuhafar Urra, simply called Liu. She was the one who would take care of the TIE fighter wreck.

"Give me an idea," she told them. "Bedroom, child's room, kitchen, living area. Tell me what you need, I'll see if I can work it into the place."

The child's room. Corin stood in the still bare room that was now their son's. The child hadn't had his own room since coming here. Actually, he had never had his own room ever.

Now he did.

"What do you think?" he asked his son.

It got him a thoughtful burble, large ears gong up and down.

"Yeah. Let's see about a bed first. And somewhere to store toys, hm?"

The kid chirped. Then it waddled off toward where Corin and Din's bedroom would be, large eyes inspecting everything on his way. Corin laughed as he climbed onto the rough frame of the new bed, looking triumphant.

"Nope. That's ours. Your parents want their privacy sometimes."

It got him a mischievous look and Corin shook his head with a fond smile. Their kid was way too knowing sometimes. He picked him up and they left the bare building shell of their future home.

It wasn't even three weeks after they had started that the house was ready for the small clan to move back into.

*

The leafs hadn't fallen off this time. Neither Din nor Corin had really felt them as anything but their own skin, though the color reminded them that yes, they were wrapped in a foreign substance that was healing them a little more every day. The green bandages relayed touch as much as their own skin did and their general substance was getting less and less until they were almost translucent.

Corin woke one morning and found only the veins and midribs were left. He brushed over them, felt them give way, and he easily peeled them off. The scars were there, but covered in the thin threads he had seen before. He knew the scars would fade, would disappear, as if they had never been shot up by Deathtroopers. As if they hadn't been riddled with shots, bleeding out, dying… dead.

"How bad was it? Really. Not just for us… but also for you?" Corin asked.

He was outside. It was sunny, almost cloudless after long days of rain and overcast skies. It was a brilliant blue now, just a breeze ruffling his hair, and he was actually enjoying the coolness.

Close to him was a cluster of plants and vines. They were all over the place, always watching. Those nightmarish things that had guarded the child, defending it against Gideon, hadn't been seen since, but he knew they were as much part of this eco-system as the vines.

Corin sat down, leaning against a massive stem, feeling not the slightest apprehension or a trickle of fear. Their clan was comfortable around Sonsos, around the monstrous plants, the deadly vines. One of the heads twisted closer, big enough to eat him whole. It was at eye-level and Corin reached out, palm out, and the plant touched it gently. Like a greeting. Nose-butting the vulnerable hand like their kyios did.

"How are you?" he asked again.

::I am good::

"You were seriously hurt. They burned you. They tore holes into your body."

::Surface damage only. You were very close to death::

Sonsos hadn't been more than a background presence in the past days since the battle. It still suffered, it still healed, and yet it also still guarded them. It had kept him and Din alive, despite being in such agony.

"You kept us alive."

::Yes, but I had to go deep. You were dying. Your mate was almost dead::

Corin shivered.

Sonsos pushed images into his head, explaining. A net of spiderweb-like threads inside them, weaving through their muscles, inner organs and skin. It held them together from the inside, just like the leaf bandages had protected their skin from the outside.

The empathic projection gave him a good idea what miracle Sonsos had pulled off. The threads of plant life were regenerating tissue and bones. They had been connected to the massive organism through them, had been fed the gelatinous healing substance, almost like ingesting bacta, but not bacta at all. When the tribe had been allowed to take their unconscious forms, the threads had stayed and they would stay.

Some had remained. Some of Sonsos was now part of them.

::I did what I had to do::

Corin swallowed hard. "It's… permanent?"

::Apologies. I had no other choice::

He drew in a deep breath, felt Sonsos' mental touch.

Gentle.

Soft.

Warm.

He leaned into the sensation that wasn’t really physical. It was everywhere, inside him, around him; it was part of him.

They would be safe. Always. Sonsos had made sure that even with possible future injuries, even illnesses, they would heal.

Corin closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing mind. His stomach was churning, a tight knot, as the whole meaning sank in.

Din was suddenly there, face hidden behind the helmet, but his body language said enough. He had heard it all, was experiencing the same shock.

"We are bound to this planet?" he wanted to know, voice even with a barely perceptible tremor. Corin heard it. He knew the other man way too well.

::Yes::

"We… can't leave?" Corin asked, eyes widening.

::You can. Any time you want. Part of this… me… is always there now. To protect::

"But we're… we're human!"

::You still are::

The empathic wave touched their minds, relaying how both of them now carried part of Sonsos inside them, the part that had been needed to heal their fatal injuries. It was everywhere, an undetectable net of such fine strands that the naked eye couldn't see it. The strands linked them to the energy field around them, the Force, but neither was force-sensitive and still very much passive.

"We are part of the Force," Din stated evenly.

::You always were::

Sonsos had been forced to act this way to keep them alive, they were told. To keep them free of pain, healing them at a speed rivalled only by the child's. The net would always be there. Sonsos would always be there.

"You could have let us die," Din told it.

Sonsos trembled briefly. ::You are special:: it finally said. ::You are null-zones. You fit. You are perfect. Co-existence with you is easy::

It had never been easy with any of the many individuals the life-form had touched before. They were the first Sonsos had ever been interested in. They had caught the entity's interest because of their null-zone status. They didn't grate on it, didn't feel alien. They were something Sonsos might have been missing itself, too.

Communication with them was easy because of how compatible they were. So they had been contacted. There had been a few false starts, it had hurt Corin unintentionally, but things had gotten smoother. With the child's growing ability, Sonsos had grown, too. It had learned. And they had been allowed to go deep into the jungle, get to know this world more intimately than anyone ever before.

It hadn't just been the child, though. That had been the first point of interest for the entity. Then it had discovered what Corin and Din were. As much as they were balance and anchors for the child, they were also somewhat of the same to each other and Sonsos in a way. Sonsos didn't need them to survive, but it had grown so very fond of them, accustomed to having two so very receptive minds, as well as a growing mental presence in the child.

"Kriff…"

Din crouched down beside him, wrapped a hand around his wrist. Corin exhaled sharply, concentrating on the grounding experience. The blue eyes, blown wide, me the visor.

"Corin?"

"This… is a lot," he whispered.

"Yes."

::You were always part of the energy that surrounds us; like me, like your child. You need to be passive for him to grow. You need to be… untalented:: Sonsos sounded almost amused. ::The child needs you the way you are::

A vine grew out of the ground and wrapped itself around their wrists, squeezing gently.

::Nothing has changed::

Everything had changed. Everything!

::You will be there for him:: Sonsos whispered soothingly. ::Always::

And their kid could grow to be very, very old. He was fifty human years already and just a baby, a toddler. He was insanely powerful and barely out of his diapers. Sonsos was convinced he would grow more in power and control, in his connection to the Force. He would need his parents for that because both Din and Corin were his calm centers.

::The Force can extend life. The energy is endless. Learning how to use it will enable him to do great things::

"He doesn't need to be great," Din pointed out levelly. "He is our foundling, our son. That's all he has to be."

Corin felt something warm deep in his soul. No, he didn't have to be anything special; all he had to be was their kid.

Din interlaced their fingers. " _Cyar'ika_?"

"I'm good."

It got him a sigh. He gave his husband a small smile, silently apologizing for the automatic answer. He might never get rid of that knee-jerk answer.

"We're connected to this Force energy now?" Corin said after a while. "But we're not force-sensitive? We're still… nobodies?"

Sonsos confirmed it.

"And we won't ever be anything else?"

Another confirmation. The plant still hovered close to him and Corin leaned his head back against the stem behind him. Din remained silent. Corin finally looked at his husband again.

"This is a lot," he said softly.

"Yes."

"But we'll be there for him. He'll have his parents. He'll have a great teacher in Sonsos."

Din inclined his head, fingers tightening. They would both need time to work through this, to understand it all, and it might take a while to truly settle in.

"We'll be okay," Corin said, almost as if trying to convince himself.

"We will," the Mandalorian agreed.

" _Tome_ \- together."

" _Tome_ ," Din echoed. " _Ratiin_ – always."


	39. Chapter 39

It was two weeks after the house had been finished that the last Mandalorians left. Paz clasped his forearm, nodding. "Stay safe," he teased. "While we are gone."

Din just squeezed the other man's arm in thankfulness for everything he had done. Emotions were running wild, but everything was hidden behind the helmet, behind a body language that refused to let them through.

"And give the kid a name, willya?" Paz rumbled, slapping Din on the shoulder as he walked by. "Paz is still the strongest contender."

"Shut up, Vizla."

He laughed, then turned to Corin, who was holding the child. The kid was making grabby arms at him, burbling excitedly, and Paz lifted him up, getting joyful peals of laughter.

"Take care of your parents, little one. Like you've done before. Hopeless idiots, those two."

Corin chuckled. "You're not campaigning for first contender concerning a name for the kid with that." He clasped arms with Paz as well. "Thank you. To everyone for everything."

"We are one people. We protect our own. We raise our arms and we will fight." Paz nodded.

Corin nodded back. " _Vor entye_ , Paz Vizla."

"There is no debt. There never was and never will be."

Vizla looked at the child still cradled in the crook of his other arm. He poked the little nose with one finger.

"See you around, kiddo."

The child gave him a serious look, chirping softly, and it grabbed the leather-gloved finger with both hands.

"Yeah, you'll do great," Paz said, audibly emotional. "Really great. And you will have a great name."

Corin accepted him back and the child watched its uncle with solemn eyes, aware this was another good-bye.

The stab of seeing them leave was deeper than the last time. Something inside Din twisted sharply.

Corin stood next to him and quietly leaned closer, their shoulders touching. When he interlaced their fingers, the Mandalorian didn't even twitch.

They busied themselves around the house, made it their home again, but something was missing. Din powered through the emotional upset.

It was just like before.

Just like… before.

But it wasn't. The tribe had been around for almost two planetary months. He didn't have to get used to that because it had always been there, had always been his life, even if he had spent so much time hunting bounty and dragging in the low-life and bail skippers to provide for the Covert. Whenever he had come back, he had been among his people.

Din knew he had his own clan. He loved his foundling, he loved and adored his husband. He had a home that was truly a safe haven. He had a whole planet protecting and nurturing his child.

He was happy.

Missing his tribe shouldn't be on his mind.

But it was.

Corin watched him with knowing eyes. They never talked about it, but the other man knew.

The afternoon was a gray, rainy affair. The clouds covered the whole sky, obscuring the sun, and it had been raining non-stop since the early morning hours. They had lived on the planet long enough to know that this was just the season for rain. And more rain

::You miss them::

Din tried not to startle, but direct contact with Sonsos did that to him sometimes. Especially since the entity rarely if ever did so without reason or prior prompting.

"They are my tribe."

The organism was silent, appeared almost thoughtful.

Corin, who had been feeding their kid, met his eyes. He raised his eyebrows.

::Would you want them back?::

Now Din's own eyebrows snapped up, too. Corin sat almost frozen, eyes wide. They both felt the emotions, the empathic wave of a possibility, of maybe… maybe something new.

"Yes…" he said softly, holding his husband's gaze.

The other man nodded. "Yes," he echoed. "They are family, too."

Din involuntarily inhaled sharply.

"Your family, Din. Your tribe. You miss them. You like them, even if Paz is a gigantic asshole. He's your brother in arms. They all are. I like them."

Din's hands clenched briefly into fists, his body language screaming what he felt, what he was going through emotionally. He couldn't hide it. He didn't want to.

::They are family:: Sonsos echoed.

"You don't like their presence," Din managed, voice still steady. Inside he was shaking so hard. "It wouldn't be just a few people. It would be everyone. We are close to forty people, including the foundlings."

::They are… many:: the entity admitted cautiously. ::A village. A new settlement. But they are no danger. They are protecting their own, their clan, and they are protective. They fought for you. They helped me::

The Mandalorian felt the tremors inside him increase. He and Corin knew about everything that had happened while they had been unconscious or, later, sleeping. He knew how his tribe had doused fires, had cleared away dead material, had removed debris and wreckage. They had done things he wouldn't have asked any of his fellow Mandalorians to do. They had cared for a world that wasn't their own.

"You would accept a Mandalorian Covert?" he asked.

A hum echoed through their minds. ::Would they accept me?:: it asked.

Corin gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head at the very important question. "Yeah, well, that's something we'd have to ask… right?"

"Yes," Din said slowly. "We would have to ask…"

Hope bloomed inside the Mandalorian, hot and bright. A longing he hadn't felt in a while. Yes, he had everything he had never thought he could call his own: a clan, a foundling, a Bonded. But Mandalorians weren't just fighters, soldiers, warriors, or legends. They were a clan, their family values unshakable, and they would save children, even of their enemies, protect them, raise them, offer them a place in the clan.

Din had been offered that so many years ago. All of that. He had lost everything, had seen death and destruction, had his parents sacrifice themselves for him. He had been saved, had been fed, protected, cared for. He had been adopted, had been given his clan name, and he had taken the Creed as his own.

Whenever he had left the Covert he had known he could always return. When he returned, he brought back funds of any denomination and beskar.

The child warbled, looking bright-eyed at them, as if it was already decided that his self-proclaimed uncle Paz would move back. It chirped happily.

Din smiled behind his helmet, feeling a burst of happiness wash over him.

"We have to ask first," Corin told their child, repeating his earlier words. "The tribe has to decide. The chief has to decide."

It got him a serious look of absolute certainty.

He chuckled. "You think they'd do it for you, you little menace? I guess your big uncle would..."

The child's ears perked up and it cooed again.

"Yeah, he just might. He's an asshole, but he's got a soft spot the size of this planet for you." Corin bobbed the flat little nose, eliciting a giggle. "But he's part of a Covert. They belong together." He looked at Din, who was feeling warm again, choking on the emotions Corin's words launched inside him. "You think they would?"

"I… I need to ask. I mean, if Sonsos really would accept the Covert…"

Yes, came the empathic wave. It would. Within its own parameters and rules. If the Mandalorian tribe could live by these rules, Sonsos could accept a new settlement of a warrior people. Guardians and protectors.

Din's body was a clear mirror of his wonder, disbelief and such hope, it almost broke something in Corin to see the other man so openly touched and humbled by the words. He knew his husband missed the Covert, even if he had never said it out loud, wouldn't confess to it even under torture. Just watching his interactions with the other Mandalorians had been telltale enough.

These were the people who had taken him in. Raised him. Taught him everything he needed to know, everything he needed to be. These were the people who had accepted Corin, whose chief had given her blessing.

Leaving Nevarro had been Din's decision, yes, but it had been a necessary one. He wouldn't endanger the tribe by staying there with the child. They had returned to Sonsos, which was their home and exile in one.

Now it could be more.

Corin wanted it to be more.

He wanted it to be a haven for the tribe just as it was a safe place for the child and its guardians. Its parents.

"Hey," he whispered as he stepped into Din's personal space.

"Hey," he echoed, the one word expressing his emotional upheaval.

He leaned his forehead against Din's, smiling softly. "Ask them."

"I… yes…"

"You want to fly to Nevarro?"

Din wrapped his arms around Corin's waist and just stood there, completely overwhelmed by the possibility to have his family and friends with him again; if they wanted to come.

They breathed in sync, Din's hold on Corin unwavering, needing the contact. Corin just held him in turn, calm and balanced himself, waiting for the Mandalorian to do the same.

"We're not leaving right away," Din finally decided and stepped back. "I… I have to contact the Covert first. Tell them about the offer."

Corin nodded. He knew his husband was very much hoping for a positive reply.

"You do that," he said quietly.

Din cupped his face, leaned in for another gentle forehead touch. His thumbs brushed over Corin's skin. "Thank you," he murmured.

_You don't have to_ , Corin thought, curling his hands around his husband's wrists, squeezing gently.

Sonsos pulled back, giving them privacy, a reassuring wave brushing over both just before it was gone.

Din sent an encoded message, using _dadita_ , a special Manalorian code. He didn't expect an answer right away or even in the next weeks. He simply detailed the offer; nothing else.

*

"Kai."

Din looked up from where he was going over his weapons, taking them apart, cleaning every part, then reassembling everything. His movements were sure, often practiced. He could probably do it with his eyes closed, and most likely with a hand behind his back.

Now he tilted his head.

Corin drummed his fingers nervously against his thighs. "His name. How about Kai? Kai Djarin."

The child, who was sitting in his booster seat and inspecting Din's work from a distance, looked at him, ears perking. It warbled.

"You like that?" Corin asked.

It cooed. He beamed at the little one, then met his husband's visored gaze, smile dimming a little.

"He does need a name," Din agreed. "And it won't be a Vizla name."

"Is Kai a Vizla name?"

"No."

He breathed a little sigh of relief. The Mandalorian chuckled and Corin shot him a narrow-eyed look. He took in the looseness of his body, the way he cocked his head, the very air of amusement radiating off him.

"Idiot," he muttered.

He should be used to the wry humor, how Din Djarin could be a sarcastic, laconic ass, but it still surprised him now and then.

"But Paz was right," Corin told him. "He needs a name. Some day. Not today. I mean, it is a great responsibility. He might just have one and can't tell us."

The child tilted its head, big ears flicking.

"He could claim a new name when he's of age," Corin added. "And we call him _buruk'ika_ until then."

Din burst out laughing. It was such a rare occasion to have that happen while he was wearing the helmet, being the badass warrior that nothing and no one could touch, Corin almost started.

"Little danger?" the Mandalorian teased.

"Menace."

The child squeed.

"Yeah, you'd like that," Din chuckled and smoothly moved a dangerous blaster piece out of his reach. "Because that's what you are, Kai."

Corin opened his mouth, stunned, then shut it again without making a sound. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Really?" he whispered.

"Really."

"You… like it?"

"I like it best from the long list you had rattled off before."

"You remember that?" he blurted.

"Yes."

He remembered. Corin was flabbergasted. He wasn't aware of Din getting up and closing the distance. Only when his husband pulled him close, foreheads touching.

"His name will be Kai. Kai Djarin."

Corin smiled broadly and looked at the baby who was watching them attentively. "You've got a name, kid."

It chirped.

"It's official then. Is there some kind of ceremony?" Corin asked, frowning as he tried to think of whether or not he had read about it.

"No."

"So we don't need the newly-proclaimed uncle?"

It got him a chuckle. "No. This is only or us."

"Kai," Corin repeated. He lifted their child out of the booster seat. "You have a name now, little one."

The child squealed in delight, eyes bright and happy.

*

Sonsos had recovered, the jungle had regrown, covering all of the planet except for the cleared areas of the settlements. None of the blackened marks had remained.

It had taken close to half a planetary year for all damage to disappear, but there wasn't even a scar left. Sonsos' surface looked almost like before, but Corin knew deep down inside it still felt the echoes of what had happened.

It was also only then that Din decided to fly to Nevarro again, meet with the Armorer and talk about the entity's still standing offer. Sonsos might not be absolutely at ease with a tribe of Mandalorians coming in all at once, but it also hadn't backed out. If they were willing to adhere to the rules of this lethal world, the gigantic life-form wouldn't throw them off the planet again.

Again, it felt strange to lift off and see the planet fall away, but this time it was with a mission. Corin sat with the child on his lap, Kai watching the world outside with absolute interest and not the least bit of distress. When the Razor Crest took to hyperspace, Corin felt strangely tense.

Nothing happened. He didn't experience any discomfort and the child didn't look unhappy.

They would be back. And hopefully it would be the last trip to Nevarro, the last time he would walk through the underground sewer system, and the last time they would leave Din's family behind.


	40. Chapter 40

Nevarro was free of an Imperial presence, but they were still careful coming in and touching down. Din landed outside the town, among other ships. He recognized some of them as bounty hunters; one was a known smuggler, who had never been caught, though everyone knew him. They walked the rest of the way, without passing through the town. There was nothing there for either man.

Corin had an intense sense of welcome when they entered the underground system through a hidden opening. It looked almost like the last time, though it was a different location. The tribe had moved, had put some distance between themselves and the town, and access was through select few and very well hidden places. While the Guild wasn't hunting the Mandalorians, the peace and alliance between them was a tenuous one.

The tribe was actively looking for a new place and maybe, just maybe, Sonsos was the right one. He hoped they would accept.

They passed several Mandalorians, all watching them, never saying a word. Corin recognized them all, knew them from their armor alone. They had been on Sonsos for long enough for him to commit them to memory and he nodded a greeting at each warrior. He could also connect a name to each armor, though he didn't address any of them.

The child warbled and waved.

One of the Mandalorians waved back.

Corin suppressed a smile.

They ran into Paz just before arriving at the Forge. The child chirped and held out his arms. Corin chuckled and handed his son over to the heavily armored man.

" _Ad'ika Djarin_!" he proclaimed. "You still haven't grown!"

"He has a name," Din said dryly.

Paz stared at him. "Really? After all this time you named your foundling? It is a damn miracle! What happened?" he laughed. "Or did your _riduur_ decide?"

"Actually, he did."

It got him a gleeful chuckle. "I knew it. It was either him or that weird plant-thing. So, _ad'ika_ , you finally have a name."

The child trilled.

"Let's hear it then."

"Kai," Din simply said.

"Hn. Kai Djarin, is it?"

The child burbled and perked his ears.

"I still think Paz is a better choice. We can still improve that name, hm? Kaipaz? Pazkai?"

Din only regarded him wordlessly, clearly relaying how much this wasn't happening. Kai himself studied him with a mild frown, not convinced either.

Vizla chuckled and tickled the child, getting himself a squeal. "Go on, talk to her. I'll keep an eye on this little menace. How about it, Kai Djarin? Do you want to play with your favorite uncle?"

Yes, Din was rolling his eyes, Corin knew. A lot.

"Have you ever seen a _beskad_ , kiddo?"

Corin almost groaned. He knew what a Mandalorian saber looked like and how big it was. It was about the size of their child and not a toy.

"Relax, Corin," Paz teased. "We have the baby-sized version, too."

Okay, so now he was rolling his eyes, for Paz to see, and he was rolling them hard!

"How about a _bevi'ragir_?"

Kai chirped, ears perking up again.

" _Nayc ara_ – not a chance," Din said flatly.

Paz tickled the little guy and got happy giggles. "Well, since your big, bad hunter dad is such a boring lame-ass who has no idea how to have fun, how about we say hello to everyone?"

It got him a positive warble.

"And then you and I are going to drop by the armory."

"Vizla!" Din snarled.

"Aw, relax. C'mon, _Kai'ika_. Let's have some real fun!"

He set the child on its own two feet and Kai waddled after him, faster than anyone might think him capable of. Corin smiled.

They left their son in Paz's questionable care and walked toward the Forge. Corin was sure that 'Uncle Paz' wouldn't let the little one come to harm. He was too small to be trained like a Mandalorian foundling who was deemed old enough, but he was powerful in other ways.

Corin again felt humbled and slightly apprehensive as he walked into the room with the always flaming forge and the multitude of tools displayed in the work area. It looked almost the same as the old forge, but a few things had changed since the relocation.

The Armorer was working on something when they entered and Din simply took a seat, respectful and silent. Corin followed his example, shooting his husband a quick look, but Din was just looking straight ahead. As relaxed as he seemed, there was a tension there, a quiet respect and humility. The Armorer was the chief of the Tribe. Her word, her decision, was final. The Tribe deferred to her, respected her words, listened to her.

So they waited to be acknowledged. She was clearly aware of their presence, even if her back was turned to the entrance. Finally she turned away from her work and gracefully sat down opposite the two men. There was only one chair facing the two for visitors. Everyone else would have to stand.

Currently they were alone.

The dark visor gave nothing away, just like her body language. Corin couldn't say how old the Armorer was, what her mood, her thoughts, her opinions were. She was perfectly composed and her voice was modulated to give nothing away.

"I hear you have finally named your foundling."

Corin nearly snorted out a little laugh; he hadn't expected that remark. She sounded almost teasing; amused. "It was… time."

"Indeed." She looked at Din. "You have returned with an offer."

"Yes."

She inclined her head. "I spoke with the clan. There are many factors to consider."

"I understand."

"We are a people without a home. It has been that way for a long time."

Din was silent, simply nodding once.

Corin was tense, almost holding his breath.

"The planet Sonsos would be a safe haven for the Mandalorians. It offers protection, a home, a choice to live in the open and leave the shadows that have followed us even to the surface of Nevarro."

The alliance with the bounty hunters could fall apart any day and any day they still looked over their shoulders.

"It is also a dangerous place," the Armorer continued, voice without judgement or any kind of inflection. "We would live on the surface of an organism that is the very planet. It has been known to kill before you arrived and it has killed for you."

"It's not malicious," Corin blurted, feeling that he had to defend the entity. "It's intelligent. It's force-sensitive. It's teaching Kai to use his powers and how to control them. Sonsos was the one to make this offer. It likes you."

Her unreadable visor fixed on him and Corin squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze.

"You trust in this creature."

"Yes. I do. Absolutely."

"It has saved you. Both of you."

Corin nodded. "Yes. It risked its very life, got injured very badly in turn."

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Din's fingers tighten over his knees.

"It is part of you."

He nodded. Corin didn't really wonder how she knew. Things had gotten back through the Mandalorians that had come to their help. She probably knew a lot more, had detailed information, and she had most likely investigated into the potential new home of the Covert.

She silently studied them. "Mandalore is our home."

Corin felt a sharp stab and had to fight not to let his disappointment show. Yes, they had a planet to call home. Just like Corin had a place where he had been born, but he hadn't been back to his place of birth since he had come of age to join the ranks of the Empire.

Din Djarin hadn't been born on Mandalore; wasn't a native. He wondered if anyone of the tribe had been born there. Maybe the Armorer, maybe none of them.

"The Jedi laid waste to our world, leaving it inhospitable. The Empire's Great Purge pushed us into the shadows, underground, out of existence. We were robbed of everything but our religion, our honor, our Creed. Mandalore won't recover in anyone's lifetime, not even in ten generations. We are few, spread out thin, everywhere where we can hide, where we can live our lives, but always in shadows. Always ridiculed for our beliefs, for the way we choose to live."

Corin felt emotions churn through him. He knew how hard life as a Mandalorian was, but he also knew how proud a people they were. How strong, how skilled, how technologically savvy. And he knew how incredibly protective they were of foundlings. He had never encountered any species or race who would even adopt the child of an enemy and raise it as their own, would offer it to become a Mandalorian.

"Sonsos has offered us shelter and home," she went on. "Without demanding anything we cannot give. Paying it respect is an honorable thing to do, to follow its rules and not exploit places we are not welcome to." She looked directly at Corin. "As its ambassadors, we would defer to your judgment."

He swallowed. "I… I'm not sure we're ambassadors…"

"Do you not come to speak about the planet's offer?"

"Yes…?"

"Do you not speak in its favor?"

"I… well, kinda, yes?"

"Can you not communicate with it, unlike anyone ever has?"

Corin nodded, mouth dry.

"So you are the ambassadors sent by an entity that claims a whole planet, that extends its invitation for our people to relocate, as long as we abide by a few rules."

"Yes," he whispered, overwhelmed.

She nodded.

"You… accept?" Din asked neutrally, voice absolutely without inflection.

"Sometimes, to gain everything, you have to risk losing everything." She inclined her head. "We accept."

The churning emotions turned into an explosion of joy and happiness, and Corin fought to composure once more. Din's body was rigid, as if he didn't believe the answer himself, refusing to relax, and Corin wanted to reach over and hold his hand. But he didn't.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He could almost imagine her smile. "We will prepare for the journey. There is much to do."

She rose, clearly dismissing them. They got up as well, Din moving stiffly, as if he was about to participate in a parade exercise.

"Corin," the Armorer held him back as he turned to leave.

His husband stopped as well, but the Armorer simply silently looking at him, neither sending him away, nor inviting him to stay. Her head tipped a little toward the door. It was a small gesture, but a very clear one. She wanted to talk to Corin. Alone.

"Uhm," Corin managed. "Yes?"

"Please, sit."

And he did.

Din refused to pace. He just stood outside the Forge, fighting to remain calm and composed, letting no emotions show.

He knew he was doing a really bad job when Paz Vizla loomed in front of him, head tilted, snorting.

"She's not gonna rip his head off. Relax."

"Where the kid?"

It got him a rumble of a laugh. "Playing. I left him with Eka and the foundlings. He'll be fine. Just like your Bonded."

Din glared at him, the lines of his body giving away his tension, his apprehension.

"We're gonna move, hm?" Paz said amiably. "To a planet that's actually one large, lethal and very much sentient creature that likes to swallow the bodies of its enemies?"

Din refused to be baited.

"Not the worst place I can think of. Not the best either, but this," he gestured, encompassing the whole underground enclave, "is no home."

"No," he agreed, voice low. "No, it isn't. It never was."

"Sonsos has become your home."

He nodded.

"Well, I like it. It has attitude." He could hear the smirk. "I like attitude."

Of course Paz did.

There was a sudden coo and Din looked down, finding his child standing next to him. It reached out with both hands and stubby little fingers curled into the legs of his pants.

"Fast little bugger," Paz commented. "Eka's gonna flip."

"He'll get over it."

It got Din a chuckle. Vizla suddenly straightened and whistled. "Well, well, well… belated wedding gift, hm?"

Djarin turned and froze as he discovered Corin, who had just left the Forge. His husband looked absolutely stunned, like he had been overrun by a landspeeder. Din's eyes were drawn to the black and silver vambraces and the armor plating. The equally black and silver cuirass and its matching back plate. All new, all beskar.

Something hot shot through him. A kind of rush, blood pounding through his veins, and he felt a momentary flash of such… such desire, he had to force himself to stand very, very still and not react at all.

"She… she said it's a… gift," Corin stammered, looking absolutely confused and lost. "And because I keep getting shot up so much." The last words held a slightly hysterical note. "It's beskar…"

Paz nodded. "Looks good on you. And she's right. You tend to get shot at a lot." Yes, there was the smirk again.

Kai burbled excitedly, waddling over to his parent and holding on to one pant leg. The large eyes expressed happiness and excitement. Corin picked him up and the small green hands patted the shiny new cuirass. He looked immensely pleased.

Din walked over and reached out, running a light, appreciative caress over the chest plate. It was exquisite, beautiful work, as always. It had a darker look than Din's, especially through the black coloring in places. It was intricately carved, perfectly fitted to Corn's slender but muscular frame.

The hot flash was back. Seeing Corin decked out in his own Mandalorian armor launched an intense pride in Din. The Armorer herself had given it to him. It was an incredible honor.

"Beskar, Din!" his husband repeated, those bright blue eyes blown wide.

"I noticed. Hard to miss," he said wryly.

Kai chirped, ears perking, and he wrapped short, clawed fingers around the edge of the cuirass.

"It's not even mine! It shouldn't be given to me!"

"Nah. Karga dropped a whole bunch of it into our laps after we cleaned up around here." Paz shrugged.

"So it belongs to you!"

"And she gifted it to you."

"But why?!" Corin demanded, sounding almost desperate. "I didn't provide it, I didn't earn it, I did nothing!"

Paz tilted his head. "Did you ask her?"

"She said I earned it."

"Well, there you have it. And like I said, it looks good on you."

"I'm… not Mandalorian," he argued.

Kai warbled as if trying to say that he begged to differ.

Din wanted to both hit his husband over the head and kiss him. Corin hadn't been this unsure for a long time now. He hadn't doubted his place, Din's love and devotion, their relationship, or even his standing on Sonsos ever again.

"You are clan," he told him firmly.

"Heart and soul of a Mandalorian," Paz added seriously. "You are very much one of us, even without the helmet. You married into this." He grinned all of a sudden. "Should have thought that over, hm? You not only got this crazy ass," he gestured at Din, "voluntarily. No idea why you said yes, but hey, to each his own. You also got a whole tribe on top."

Corin was visibly flailing, trying to understand the enormity of the gift, of what had happened. He was trying to deal with probably a ton of emotions and a million thoughts. Thoughts Din was quite aware of. He knew his husband. Quite well, actually.

"Corin."

Wide, blue eyes met Din's hidden gaze. The child watched his parents silently, solemnly.

"She doesn't expect you to take the Creed."

"Uh… no?"

"No. It's everyone's own decision, a private matter. It's voluntary to become a Mandalorian by taking the Creed and donning the helmet. You are not that person, Corin, and you never were."

"You… don't expect it?" he managed, a shiver of fear in his voice.

"No."

Paz was a silent wall of armor behind him and Din was somehow glad for his presence.

"Never, Corin. You are you. You are the one who was accepted into the tribe as you are. You are the one who was gifted the armor without demanding you take the Creed. It's her way to express what we can't say in words. You have the heart and soul of a Mandalorian," he quoted Paz. The larger man nodded. "And that's what makes you you. You don't need the helmet."

"Also, it hides that really pretty face," Paz rumbled.

Corin coughed a laugh, not looking at Vizla. "Asshole," he muttered.

Paz just laughed whole-heartedly. "Now, let's go and tell Eka where you ran off to, Trouble. He's probably cursing your cute little hide anyway."

He took Kai from him and walked off. The child was happily cooing and he softly talked to him in Mando'a, drawing giggles.

Din wrapped a loose arm around his husband's waist and rested their foreheads together for a long moment. He felt Corin's tremors.

" _Gar ti Mando_ – you are Mandalorian," he murmured.

Corin's hands clenched into the folds of his shirt.

"And you look very good in that armor," Din said, voice low, intense.

He stepped back, staring at him. "Uhm?"

Din smiled behind his helmet. "Come."

"Where are we going?"

"Just come with me."

They ended up in what appeared like someone's private room. Corin looked around. There were two beds, a shelf, a roughly constructed looking desk, and storage that was clearly meant for armor and weapons.

"Uhm?" he managed.

Din closed the door and just stood there, waiting. Corin had no idea what for, but he knew he was looking at him with such a single-minded attention, something inside of him stirred.

And then the helmet was suddenly off and the other man was in his space. Dark, almost black eyes were burning with something Corin easily identified.

"Din…"

The Mandalorian wrapped a hand around his neck and drew Corin into a kiss. Slow, deep, expressing so much without talking.

No words.

He leaned into the contact, answered the kiss with everything he felt. It was a kiss with such emotion, Corin couldn't but reply with deepening the contact. He carded a hand into the dark strands.

Deepening the kiss, he felt part of him unwind, relax, lean in closer, and Din's hands were on his back, under his shirt, sliding over warm skin.

Din nipped at the soft lips, then at his husband’s chin, leaving little marks that would quickly disappear. He bit a little harder when he reached the neck and Corin exhaled sharply. His hands gripped Din’s hips, pulling him closer, and there was a definite interest there. Their armor clanged against each other and he had to step back to take it off.

Din caught his hands and those almost black eyes were burning with desire. "Let me," he murmured, voice dark and low, the timbre hitting something inside Corin that had him obey without protest. Each piece of armor was deftly removed, until Corin could strip off the shirt.

Din moved in to kiss him again, hard and demanding, teeth nipping playfully at the hollow of his throat.

He had to move to get out of his pants and they were the longest seconds in his life.

Tumbling into bed, Din just now pulling off his armor and clothes, Corin ended up on top, looking down at the clearly very much aroused Mandalorian. This time the kiss was less harsh.

"Is this an armor kink?" Corin murmured.

Dark eyes flared.

Oh… "Oh!"

Din's smile grew and he wrapped a strong hand around Corin's neck, guiding him into another kiss.

No more words were lost after that.


	41. Chapter 41

Paz Vizla was still baby-sitting when Corin walked into what he suspected was a kind of common room. Two Mandalorians were playing a kind of strategy game, watched by two more. Paz had Kai in a cradle, the child sleeping after probably tiring himself out with whatever his uncle had thought up to keep him entertained.

"Look who finally made it out of bed," the large man teased. "Where's your worse half? Worn him out?"

Corin refused to blush. He had showered, his clothes were fresh and clean, and he had more or less tamed his hair. While Din had ventured out to get food, he had come to collect the kid.

"Please don't tell me he now knows how to shoot a blaster and take apart a repeater rifle?" he said, ignoring the very audible leer.

Paz snorted. "He knows how to do that already. He has now graduated to small explosive devices." Corin's eyes narrowed and Paz chortled. "He'll make a great warrior one day. He just needs to grow a little more. I bet the Armorer could make him some fitting armor."

"He's still a baby, Paz."

"Who's already so much more powerful than any _jetii_ out there, right?"

"How many do you know?"

The large man shrugged. "You hear things. The New Republic seems to have a few that resurfaced. Direct descendants of Vader."

Corin felt himself freeze, then he fought down his reaction. "I don't care."

Paz cocked his head a little. "We do," he said seriously. "If they threaten the clan, we do care a lot. Nevarro is far enough away from the center to be free of a lot of New Republic visitors of any kind, which is why the Imps loved it. But word spreads."

Corin smoothed the blanket wrapped around his sleeping child. Paz rose, his large presence not threatening.

"We won't surrender a foundling, Corin," he said, voice soft and intense. "He is clan. He is your foundling. He will be protected."

"Thank you."

A heavy hand briefly clapped and gently squeezed his shoulder, then Paz walked off. Corin fought down his reaction to the threat of someone taking Kai from him.

The more distance between them and the New Republic, the better.

He finally calmed himself and picked up the peacefully sleeping child. He carried him back to their room where food was already waiting. Dark eyes watched him, still reflecting something from their rather enthusiastic romp, and Corin shot his husband a warning look.

Din's smile was mischievous, launching a million emotions inside him, and he leaned down, kissing those familiar lips.

"Paz is still an asshole," he murmured. "But also a great baby-sitter."

Din chuckled. "He'll never change."

With a last kiss Corin withdrew and placed the kid on the bed in a nest of blankets, then joined his husband to get something to eat.

He wouldn't mention the make-out session that followed. Nor what he saw in that unbelievably expressive face that no one but him, and the child of course, ever saw. It was such adoration and love, Corin felt something inside constrict.

He wouldn't have believed his luck if it had come up and shown him his future in detailed images. A future with this man. With a powerful, force-sensitive child in his care. With a whole tribe of Mandalorians calling him one of their clan, gifting him with armor, with a family he had never envisioned he would ever have.

" _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ ," Corin whispered.

Din's expression said it all. It resonated deep within him, bound them together, and for the first time Corin understood that it had led them to meet each other. He didn't believe in fate, but he believed in luck, and his had been both incredibly bad and incredibly good.

"I love you, too," he replied, voice low and intense.

Din rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, looking absolutely at peace with himself and the world. One hand cupped Corin's neck, thumb brushing over his skin.

They left late in the evening, just as dusk fell, and he knew it wasn't really a good-bye this time.

Paz said as much, clasping his forearm.

This time it was a beginning.

*

It was three months later that the Mandalorian ships arrived on Sonsos. The entity had cleared a large area for the clan to settle down in. It was a valley, protected from all sides, with fresh water and even a small lake that had been invisible because of the jungle that had been there before. The tribe had the choice to build into the rock face, to go underground, and to have homes above ground.

Raga looked around, clearly impressed. By the sounds of awe coming from the youngest clan members, those who had grown up in the sewer tunnels of Nevarro, this was an absolute delight and surprise for them. They were already starting to explore, under close supervision from the adults. Everyone had been briefed not to venture into the jungle unless invited.

"Amazing," Raga said softly.

Paz stopped by her side, clearly stunned by the very generous area offered to them, too. This was big enough for a tribe three times their current size. There were small patches of forest that didn't belong to the jungle and the grass grew up to their thighs or higher.

"Our new home," she murmured.

"Our new home," he repeated, sounding a little bit more choked up than he probably wanted anyone to hear.

The Armorer walked down the ramp of another ship, her gaze taking in the new world, the new home for the tribe that would hopefully become a permanent home to them. She stepped onto the soft ground, walking across the empty field, surveying the valley. She watched the foundlings already chasing each other, exploring things they had never seen.

She finally stopped away from the ships, eyes on the horizon where the jungle was just about visible. The valley was green, the trees and bushes growing healthily, and there was a river near-by.

It was perfect.

Everyone knew this was a gift, that they had been granted not just a temporary refuge but a real home.

"We will abide the law of this world," she said, voice ringing through the silence without her shouting. "This land is given into our care, like foundlings are. We will treat it with respect. _Yaim'ol_ – may we finally have a homecoming!"

The other Mandalorians murmured their assent.

" _Haat, Ijaa, haa'it_ \- truth, honor, vision," she sealed the pact. "This is the Way."

"This is the Way," everyone chorused.

It didn't take the droids and the Mandalorians too long to carve their new homes out of the rock, going deep underground as well as using the rocky hillside and the valley as such. Sonsos kept to itself, merely watching, the jungle miles away and not a single flower or vine in sight.

The Forge was one of the first places to be finished and it was a large room, just like it had been in the old days, the central room for every Mandalorian to meet. It had been carved out of the granite rock of the hill, protected and yet still open to all as it formed the center of the underground tunnels.

The settlement had become an eclectic array of buildings of all shapes and materials. Some wanted to live within the hillside, others chose to be outside. All homes had been built to withstand quite a beating and all had underground access.

When Din and his little family walked into the finished Forge, it looked nothing like the underground sewer room. It was brighter, with a skylight that gave it an open feeling. There was no shadow, no darkness, no oppressive sensation. It was a room to meet, to talk, to offer beskar to be shaped into whatever the bearer needed. It was a place for foundlings to learn, to be taught, to take the Creed if they wanted.

"This is amazing," Corin whispered, awed.

The child in his arms cooed in agreement, then wriggled to be let down. Corin set him onto the ground and attentively watched where his son was going off to. Kai toddled over to the Armorer and just looked right up at the Mandalorian head of the tribe.

The Armorer regarded them as solemnly and regally as always. She still looked the same, but still, something had changed. It had changed in all of them, in the tribe, in every single one. Moving out of the shadows had been the first step. They had come back to the surface, from the underground, but Nevarro had still been dangerous and their so-called allies nothing but temporary and ready to turn on them at the offer of the highest bidder.

Sonsos was so much more dangerous, more lethal, than any planet could ever be, but it was also a freedom they hadn't had in more than a lifetime.

" _Mirjahaal_ ," the Armorer said.

Peace of mind, Corin translated for himself. The state of emotional well-being after loss or trauma. And yes, that fit.

This was peace for them. This was their healing.

She looked at their child. "Kai Djarin."

The large ears perked and Kai was giving her an attentive look, quiet and earnest.

And then she did something quite unexpected: she knelt down to be as close to eye-level as she could be with Kai. Corin blinked and glanced at Din. The Mandalorian was clearly as perplexed. This was clearly not how their leader behaved normally.

She held out her hand. The child watched her, then chirped and pulled the mythosaur necklace out from under his robes.

Corin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Din was right next to him, clearly as confused. Neither the Armorer nor their son was talking, but there was communication of sorts.

Kai placed the amulet into her hands and she lifted the necklace over his head, careful of his ears. She carefully put the mythosaur amulet on the ground, then reached into her belt and presented their foundling something new. An exchange.

Din almost snapped to attention, straightening with a barely audible hiss, and Corin could almost see the wide eyes and the same surprise he felt at the sight.

It was a new necklace, on a leather string like the mythosaur. This was a perfect, though smaller, copy of the mudhorn, though. Din's signet. Their signet.

"You are of your fathers' clan. You are a foundling of this tribe in the care of Din Djarin," the Armorer said. "This is your clan's signet. Wear it with honor and pride."

The child's hands curled around the new amulet, meeting her visored gaze with serious, dark eyes. It warbled softly.

Then promptly stuck the new necklace into his mouth.

Corin groaned. Their son!

The Armorer tilted her head and he knew he had to be imagining the soft chuff of laughter. She picked up the mudhorn amulet and rose in a smooth, lithe move. She approached Din and held out the necklace. He took it with reverence, inclining his head in thanks.

"Your clan is part of our tribe. You will always be part of us."

Din's hand clenched around the amulet. "You will always be my tribe. We are one of you," he replied formally.

The child cooed, small hands holding on to the Armorer's knee-high boots. Kai watched her with a happy expression, clearly delighted by whatever he was feeling.

"You will be a great warrior, Kai Djarin," she stated. " _Verd ori'shya beskar'gam_ \- a warrior is more than his armor."

Corin almost had a conniption when their child held up his arms and she simply picked him up, easily balancing him against her side.

"One day," she added, and this time the humor wasn't Corin's imagination.

"He has some more growing-up to do."

"He will grow. He has already grown. Physical growth is never an indication for mental development," the Armorer stated. "You raise him well."

Kai gave her a serious look as if he understood what she was saying. One hand was still clutching the new amulet.

The Armorer handed the little one to Din, who stroked over the fuzzy head with gentle fingers. She turned back to the forge, a clear dismissal of them.

They left, both a little dazed, and Din let Kai back down to toddle off to wherever he wanted. He was absolutely safe within the Mandalorian settlement.

"Wow," Corin whispered.

It got him a slight head-tilt.

"I guess this isn't… normal?"

"Foundlings learn our ways, our language, are raised by the Way. They decide if they want to take the armor and the helmet when they come of age. They always belong to the clan who adopted them, who took them as their own."

"They wear the signet of the tribe?"

"Yes."

And now Kai had the signet of their little clan of three. Corin looked at the child who was happily walking ahead of them. It would be a long time until Kai would be of the age where he could decide to be a Mandalorian like his father or be a part of the tribe as Corin was. Or maybe he would be something else entirely.

*

She had left the Forge and had walked toward the jungle's edge. Alone. No one had offered to accompany her, respecting their chief's wordless decision and unspoken order.

The Armorer stopped away from the edge of the imposing wall of foreign plant life. Huge leafs fanned out over her, muscular looking stems reached up high. There were colorful variations to the plants, to the jungle that was just the surface of an incredible organism that was this planet, that was deeply rooted within this world, that was this world.

A world who had welcomed them, despite its own reservations about too many settlers. A world who had defended the Djarin clan, who had suffered agony and pain, who had brought down an Imperial ship.

She knew it all.

She had studied all there was to know about Sonsos.

And she knew it was always there, underneath the very ground they walked on, even if the valley appeared clear of monstrous plants and vines. She had listened to it, throughout those days and nights the tribe had been on Sonsos. She had felt the life, the intelligence, but it had never tried to talk to her.

She knew only the ambassadors could hear it, understand it, and she respected its decision not to openly communicate with anyone but its chosen ones.

The Armorer knelt on the ground, hands on her thighs, seemingly relaxed and at ease. She sensed the other presence, knew it was very close.

" _Mando'ad draar digu_ \- a Mandalorian never forgets," she finally broke the silence. " _Vor entye_."

For she knew she and all that would come after her, every single member of this tribe, would be forever in the debt of this entity.

Something broke out of the ground and for the first time the Armorer saw what others had described to her. The plant and its vines were small, growing slowly as if not to scare her. The eyeless head with its sharp teeth and long incisors opened, the flexible tongue tasting the air. When a vine crawled closer, she didn't run or simply tense.

She let it touch her, curl around her wrist, over her lower arm and its vambrace.

She felt the vastness, though she doubted she could grasp even the remotest thought of how big it was in reality.

For a long moment they just looked at each other, then the vine briefly squeezed the wrist it held. It retreated, the ground closing up, thought he plants with its maw full of teeth was still there.

The Armorer rose, inclining her head in a promise and acceptance.

*

The Mandalorians didn't stay to themselves. Trade Day found them bartering and trading with the others living on Sonsos. Even if they recognized a former Imp or Rebel, no questions were asked and no accusations flew. The tribe adapted to their new environment more smoothly and quickly than Corin would have believed. It was as if they had been waiting for just this kind of life, this anonymity, and he was weirdly happy to know that they were happy.

Trade Day happened in the small Mandalorian settlement the next time and Din and Corin stayed the whole day, enjoying themselves, the life in the street as goods were bought, traded and bartered for. Kai was absolutely happy to have so many people around him, cheerfully watching the comings and goings.

"Mar'eyce, hm?"

Corin looked at the large man who had joined him, holding a jug full of what was probably a very strong, for Corin lethally alcoholic drink. Despite having probably drunk more than just this jug, the medic pronounced it perfectly. Mah-ray-shay.

That was what the tribe had named their settlement. He knew it was a Mando'a word for finding something at last, a discovery, for a state of heaven, though not in an afterlife sort of way.

It was fitting.

"They fit in well," the medic continued, sipping at the liquid. "And their spiced _tihaar_ is as good as I remember." He grinned.

"And probably just as lethal for any normal metabolism," Corin muttered.

It got him a chuckle. "I was gifted with a high tolerance for alcohol."

"We all have our talents. You, me, your Mando. Your son." Brows rose pointedly.

The son in question toddled over to them, brandishing a stick with thin slices of meat wrapped around them, roasted over an open fire and basted in sauce. His mouth was already smeared with the brownish liquid and Corin chuckled as he knelt down to wipe him clean.

"The food is supposed to land in your mouth, not everywhere on you."

It got him a chirp.

"Do I really want to know how you got this anyway? Did you even pay for it?"

"Nah, his favorite uncle got him some food. The little guy is starved."

Corin looked up and narrowed his eyes at Paz. The large Mandalorian chuckled.

Kai held the stick out to the Mandalorian, who simply picked the little guy up and told him to eat, to grow into a fearsome warrior.

Well, Corin mused, as long as he didn't chase after frogs and lizards… Not that he had given up on that, catching his own snacks. At least this stuff was cooked.

The medic grinned. "Just keep the tihaar away from him. He might grow hair on his chest too soon."

Corin rolled his eyes.

Paz wandered off, setting Kai down and letting him toddle along, adjusting his pace to the child's. Corin didn't worry about him getting lost. A whole tribe of Mandalorians was keeping a close eye on him.

The returned home by nightfall, Kai already asleep in his sling.

Mar'eyce grew, was now part of Sonsos as if it had been there since the first time a settlement had been allowed to remain. The Covert obeyed the unwritten laws of the planet and Sonsos accepted their presence, more at ease with the numerous new-arrivals it had invited as time went by. Mar'eyce became another village and traded with the others as if it had always been there.

The foundlings were taught never to enter the jungle, even if it looked like a fun adventure, might be a dare, or should they want to prove themselves. The Armorer made it very clear and they obeyed.

Kai wasn't growing so much physically as he did mentally. Communication was getting clearer, even if he didn't use words. Interaction with the Mandelorian tribe seemed to help in that regard. Paz was adamant that he would get him to learn Mando'a, but so far Kai had only watched him and cooed or burbled in delight as the Mandalorian warrior repeated easy words for him.

He got to play with other foundlings, much to his delight. While they usually engaged in battle or strategy games, trained their bodies and were taught about different weapons, they also adjusted to much less dangerous variations when he was around. Kai was tiny, still a baby in so many ways despite his enormous abilities, and he couldn't physically match any of them.

Either Din or Corin watched them with him for the first few times, then trusted in the tribe not to let the baby come to harm.

They hadn't moved into Mar'eyce themselves. The farm was their home. They were of the tribe, but a clan of their own. The Armorer had never asked them to relocate, nor had it been expected of them, hinted at by the other Mandalorians.

The jungle had closed the distance to the house, just beyond their impressive stretch of a back yard. It still took a little more than half an hour to reach, but it was a clear statement as to what and who Din and Corin were.

Ambassadors.

Part of this world, part of Sonsos. And very much part of the Force, just like their son was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, not the end yet. There is an itty-bitty little more I want to tackle... I had already written a kind of final chapter, then scrapped it, then rewrote it, then my braincell decided that no, let's do something really different while still handling the same idea: someone must have felt the large disturbance to the Force when the child pushed all he was into Sonsos...


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work kept me busy, so I didn't get as much done as I wanted, though I've pre-written almost all and it just needs to be worked on a lot more. So here, have at least a little bit :) And now speculations as to who the person looking for where the disturbance came from, and from whom, come to an end...
> 
> Have I mentioned that writing Star Wars is something quite out of my usual comfort zone and I haven't watched any of the animated series? Yes? Well, just to remind you again... I just watched some youtube clips!

Coming to the small planet so far past any of the main trade or travel routes had been a gamble. Just finding it on regular star maps had been difficult, actually impossible. She had worked through ancient maps, had tried to follow instinct, guided by the Force, but it had still taken so much longer than she would have thought. Years, actually.

Interesting. As if that one outburst had been more of an accident; as if everything was hidden once more.

She had felt the tsunami that had travelled through the Force, had been shocked and surprised by its sheer power. The seismic event had been hard to pin down to a specific place and it had taken her until now to arrive where she suspected the Force tremor had originated.

Sonsos.

Tiny, a few small settlements, no space port, no connection to anything. There were numerous warnings about Sonsos, about how dangerous it was, how lethal and poisonous. The Empire had tried to set up a base here decades ago and it had failed. Everyone had been lost. Numerous science explorations had been launched, all lost, too.

There had been tall tales about how Imperial remnants had hunted someone to this place and all had been killed.

Other rumors had it that a Covert of Mandalorians had relocated here, just like more rumors said that if you came to Sonsos and managed to stay alive, the planet had accepted you. Many scoffed at that, but hardly anyone ever wanted to come here. And whoever had decided to test the theory, well, no one had come back to brag that they had.

She knew to never ignore warnings or rumors, but to also not believe everything she was told. There were faint tremors of the Force, nothing concrete, nothing as strong as what had hit her senses so long ago. Nothing that hinted at a very strong force-wielder being here. She surveyed the dense jungle as she took her ship in low, saw the sparse settlements. There was nothing really suspicious here.

She steered her ship toward where the faint emissions guided her. It was a large clearing, some sparse forest, and a village not far away.

Walking into the settlement, she drew looks. Maybe because of the long cloak hiding all of her body and most of her head. Maybe because of the staff she carried. Maybe just because she was a new face. No one approached her, no one gave her warning looks, no one appeared hostile. It was a community and they were aware of a stranger, but she was assessed, classified, then watched without being under total scrutiny.

The village was small, with only one main street and a jumbled collection of houses, some of them shops, some homes, and vendor carts lining the side of the road. She got herself some food from such a vendor, watching the bustle around her.

"If you came for Trade Day, you are either a day too late or a month too early."

She turned and looked at the tall, broad-shoulder man whose heavy brows and rough-cut features looked quite imposing. He was clothed in plain clothes, had no visible weapons on him, and his demeanor was passively curious and laid-back.

"I didn't."

"Too bad. It's quite an event. You might just find what you're looking for."

She studied his neutral features, took in the sharp eyes, the quiet intelligence that seemed to know what she was here for.

"And I can't find it outside Trade Day?"

He shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. Right now, all we can offer is something to eat, some very good drinks, and should you need supplies, ask around. There's lots on offer."

She inclined her head. He nodded back, then ambled off. Whatever he was, whoever he had been, she couldn't get a real sense of him. Soldier? No, not really. Something else.

So the visitor continued to browse along the streets, look at what was on offer. Surprise had her stop as she caught sight of a Mandalorian. Two, actually. They were talking to a shop owner, clearly haggling over prices, then a deal was made.

Mandalorians. Curious. She hadn't seen them in a very long time. The Empire had made sure to eradicate their existence, to make their homeworld inhospitable, and those who had been scattered all over the galaxy had gone into hiding. And yet, here they were. The people of the settlement didn't seem to think it odd.

She caught no sign of any force-wielder, but the low level hum of the Force was there. It seemed to be in the very ground, wherever she looked, and yet there was no definite source. When she concentrated hard enough she could sense more, but it was still barely there.

She left the village, following a well-trodden path through an airy forest, past heavy looking outcroppings of rock and single boulders. She saw some animal life, mostly lizards and insects. A faint tremor in the force led her to what looked like a single house. It was as if it was guiding her here, cautiously inviting her while also warning the visitor that she was only a guest.

She discovered a farm house after she left the forest. It was surrounded by old stone walls and newer fences to keep some sort of mammalian looking animals inside. The house looked more recent, more modern but still fitting into the general look of what the village had been made of.

Not far away, the jungle was growing thick and tall, and she felt a strange kind of hum deep inside her.

She had been expected.

The man was tall, slender and athletic, with dark, almost black hair and bright blue eyes. Cold, guarded blue eyes. His armor was reminiscent of a Mandalorian's, all silver and black, but he wasn't wearing or carrying a helmet. Curious. She also didn't recognize the signet on his pauldron.

Two Mandalorians in the small village, one who wore their armor but not the helmet. Were the rumors correct? Had a Covert set up on this planet? And was it the tribe who followed an old, very strict Creed to never take off their helmets? If yes, who was this man? Mandalorians didn't take kindly to anyone stealing their armor or fashioning copies. This beskar also looked handcrafted, made by a true Mandalorian armorer.

The way this man held himself, hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his side, he was radiating a clear warning. She kept herself loose and as non-threatening as possible. The man was radiating a clear air of how unwelcome her visit was.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked coolly.

"My name is Ahsoka Tano."

A dark brow rose, suggesting Ahsoka also state what she wanted or it would get less pleasant. Those sharp eyes studied her, took in her simple outfit with its long, white cloak that covered all of her body and her head. He was assessing her armament, whether or not she carried more weapons than just the staff.

Well, yes. Yes, she did. Her lightsabers.

Ahsoka didn't need the Force to know he was dangerous. As plain as he looked, he wasn't to be discarded. Not a force-wielder, but still someone who could be dangerous to her.

She took down the hood and revealed her white Lekku and montrals with the blue stripes. Her appearance didn't get a reaction, aside from a fraction of a head-tilt.

"I am a force-wielder," she explained calmly. "There was a disturbance to the Force a while ago." Years. Years ago. "It was a monumental event, echoing all over the galaxy, and it came from here. I was curious and came to investigate." And it had taken her this long to find this place.

Part of Ahsoka wondered if she was supposed to find it only now.

There wasn't a single twitch from the blue-eyed man. "You are trespassing on my property and I'm asking you to leave, jetii."

"I am not a Jedi. I left the Order." She smiled briefly as his face shifted. "I'm not Sith either. I follow a different path."

"You want me to believe that?"

"You can feel it," Ahsoka told him, convinced of that.

Those blue eyes were intense, knowing, and she knew herself that the man wasn't alone. There was something else here; something she couldn't really grasp. He wasn't like her, but he was part of the energy that was the Force. She doubted he had been the one to register so strongly. To Ahsoka it had felt like standing next to a Death Star blowing up.

"So you just came here."

"Yes. I was curious." She studied him, letting her senses open. "You are not a force-sensitive," she stated. "You interact with the Force anyway."

The whole place was filled with a weird energy. Force but not the Force. It was all around her, like a tight net of energy lines woven underneath the planet, and it was throwing her off and making her very curious in one. She could detect movement all around her, under her, and it had her wonder.

"I'm asking you again, Ahsoka Tano. Please leave."

Still pleasant, still polite, but the edge of steel was unmistakable. He had a very even aura, very balanced, rooted to the ground in a way she had rarely ever experienced in an individual who wasn't force-sensitive.

Who was he? What was he?

"Something happened here a while ago," Ahsoka said. "It triggered the disturbance. This place is… special…"

"It is especially dangerous. You might have read the warnings. They are real."

Ahsoka inclined her head. "I have read them, yes."

"Yet, here you are. Looking for something you won't find, refusing to just leave."

"You know what happened. You know who is responsible."

The blue eyes never so much as wavered. There wasn't a single twitch. Ahsoka was about to say something when she registered movement so much closer, so much more defined. She turned and discovered a Mandalorian behind her, in full armor, including the helmet. He wasn't either of the two she had seen in the village; this one was decked out almost completely in silver, unpainted beskar.

She caught sight of the signet on his pauldron. The same as on the pauldron of the blue-eyed man.

Clan, she realized.

One helmeted, the other not. Now she was burning with curiosity; a curiosity she hadn't felt like this in a very long time. She also hadn't been this surprised in a very long time.

The Mandalorian was carrying a rifle, the blaster strapped to his side, and while he wasn't pointing a weapon at her, Ahsoka knew she was being assessed and warned in one. But what was more interesting was the plant pushing out of the ground, twice as tall as the Mandalorian, with a maw full of serrated teeth and a tongue that seemed to taste the air. Vines crawled over the ground, looking sharp as a knife and covered in hooks.

Yes, this was a very clear warning. It was also a none-too subtle display of power. She felt the shivers along the Force, neither dark nor light, but also not neutral.

"You have no business here," the Mandalorian said flatly.

"I come as a visitor. I'm only looking for something."

"You won't find it here."


	43. Chapter 43

They were protecting something or someone. Ahsoka's eyes were on the plant and she saw more vines crawl closer to her, though nowhere near for her lightsabers to touch it. She got hardly anything off the possibly sentient creature.

"I can sense the strength of the Force on this planet," she continued, ignoring the threat to her. "The explosion I sensed was out of control, from someone untrained."

Not one of these men. She was sure neither of them was a force-wielder or force-sensitive, though there was something about them. Something strange.

"Thanks for the none too subtle offer, but no," the blue-eyed man replied almost amiably, but the coldness never wavered. "We're not handing them over to be a Jedi."

That more or less confirmed that the one who had been responsible for the disturbance was neither of them, but that person was close to them. Family? Most likely. Mandalorians were very protective of family and clan, no matter what tribe they belonged to.

"Jedi are an Order, not a race or a species," she told him. "An Order I left. Like being a Mandalorian is a creed, a religion, correct?"

"I'm not Mandalorian," was the level reply.

Wasn't he? "You wear the armor."

It got her a wry smile.

She mirrored it. "As you are not a Mandalorian, I am not a Jedi. I don't wear the robes, I don't follow their path." She gave him another pointed look. "All I want is to meet the one who caused such a tremor. They have abilities that you cannot understand. Dangerous abilities."

"Let me repeat myself: no."

"And we do understand," the Mandalorian behind her said evenly, the voice low and intense. "We know what they are perfectly well. We know their abilities."

"The Force can be used for the Light and the Dark," she explained. "Should they lose their way…"

"They won't," the Mandalorian interrupted, still so very neutral, but threatening nonetheless. "They are being taught and have been for all their life."

"By whom?"

"Not _Jetii_."

No, he didn't trust Jedi. She doubted he had ever met one, but there was a history between them and not all was good.

The plant rumbled and the vines twitched as if the suggestion that a Jedi teach the force-sensitive had been an insult. The large head full of long, serrated teeth hovered over the Mandalorian and it snarled at her like an angry creature. The very ground was trembling slightly.

_Ah_ , Ahsoka thought, mind racing as she started to connect the dots. _That's… unexpected._

The tension rose and the plant opened that terrifying maw.

" _Jetii_ have destroyed our home," the Mandalorian said coldly. "They left it in ruins. They made us homeless. They take foundlings and children to their temples, away from their families, declaring that family would only distract."

"You are not taking our family away," the blue-eyed man added, a hard, final edge to his voice. For the first time Ahsoka detected emotions, deep, very personal emotions.

The huge plant hissed.

"I would not destroy a family. Your child is incredibly strong with the Force," she told them.

It was a shot in the dark to call the person their child. It had to be, considering their fiercely protective nature. A foundling. Someone they had rescued, someone who had lost their own family, maybe even their whole world to, most likely, the Empire.

"We know."

"They might fall to the Dark. I have seen it happen with grown men and women, with those who had been trained to know who and what they are."

With friends. With a so very close friend she had admired, who had been her teacher, who had lost himself to his darker emotions and left a gaping hole inside her at his fall to the dark side. She had wanted to guide him back, she had wanted to help him overcome his pain and hatred, but he had been too far gone.

It had been decades since she had lost her friend and mentor; it had been not too long ago that the thing he had become had been destroyed. Ahsoka knew of his children, but she hadn't tried to contact either of them. She kept her head down, stayed away from the New Republic.

Ahsoka still mourned the one she had lost, still felt she might have saved him in a way, even though the rational part knew there was nothing she could have done.

The plant snarled louder, hissing. It opened its maw once more and the teeth looked even more nightmarish than before. Ahsoka felt the whole planet tremble on a purely Force-based level. Her eyes widened as she realized that it wasn't just this one plant. It was so much more, so much bigger. It was everywhere! It was… enormous!

"No," the blue-eyed man said. "Our child won't fall."

"There is never a certainty. Strong force-wielders are always at risk. The Dark will turn them into something sinister. Death, pain, destruction, it can all trigger that. Loss…"

Another tremor went through the ground and there was a spike in the energy field. Not like the Force, but still so very much like it anyway. Ahsoka blinked and barely saw the vine snap forward, catching her arm. She felt an immense presence, powerful, vast, ancient. It was everywhere and it was fiercely guarding what was its territory: the planet. Sonsos.

This was… the planet. An organism the size of this world. One mind, ancient, older than the oldest Jedi, linked within the Force, interwoven and as eternal as the energy it was aware of. Not a force-wielder, but part of it.

Ahsoka almost choked on the heady feeling of such vast power, all balanced within an intricate network, then her wide eyes were on the two men. She felt something from them, around them. They weren't force-sensitive, but they were part of this, too. Individuals, not like Sonsos, very much human, and yet…

Neutral. Part of it all, but not able to use the Force, unable to sense it, but still… grounded in themselves, in the force energy.

_What are you?_ she asked, feeing shaken like she hadn't in a very long time. A long, long time.

It wasn't the shock she had experienced when facing Sith, when feeling the darkness of their hearts and minds. It wasn't painful, it wasn't trying to erase what she was. It was simply… massive. It was there. It was everywhere. And it was not just sentient, but also intelligent, very much aware, and it communicated.

She didn't get a verbal answer. She only felt the empathic wave, the disdain the entity held for her, the anger at her presence on this world, how it barely kept itself in check. The only reason Ahsoka wasn't fighting for her life against a massive plant were the two men facing her.

Sentinels. Guardians. Ambassadors of this world and keepers of a power she had never seen before. A power that was a network that included them without enabling them to wield it.

This place was alive. All of it was one entity and that entity was connected to the Force. It was vast, it was powerful, and it could erase Ahsoka's existence. The threat was never spoken out loud, but it was there.

The two men were bonded to their child and to this entity, balancing everything, the good and the bad, the surges, and she almost cried as she understood that no matter how strong their child would be, it wouldn't fall to either side. Because of them.

Ahsoka almost choked on a surge of her own emotions, as memories spilled over from the past into her present.

If only… if only Anakin… or so many others…

The entity shivered and was suddenly more interested in her, flowing closer, intrigued by her past pain and loss, mirroring her emotions in its own way. It knew pain, she realized. It knew loss. It had fought for this clan, for this child. It would protect it, it taught it, just like its parents were there to protect it on so many more levels than many parents could.

They were its guardians, keeping the power it wielded on an even keel.

_Null zones_ , something whispered through her. _Needed._ The calmness, a deep well of serenity. Bonded; force-bonded.

Ahsoka felt her mind quiet down, and she reached out to the entity, let it feel her intentions. How she wasn't affiliated with the Jedi Order, would never take the little one away. She herself had followed the call of the Order, had been taken to the temple to be taught, to be trained, and in the end she had left. She opened her memories, let it know she had been wronged by them, had decided never to return, that she had followed her own path wherever it took her.

She gave up her pain, her feeling of betrayal and helplessness as she had found out about Anakin's fall to the darkness, to his anger, to the agony of loss, of feeling misunderstood, trapped, caged, and how releasing all those pent-up emotions had turned him.

Sonsos was silent, but she felt its presence, so close to her, interested but still a little wary. It was the inherent nature of the organism to be careful. It had been alive for such a long time, for so much longer than the oldest recorded Jedi, and it was very much part of the cosmic energy all around them.

This would not happen to the child, it finally told her. Because of the balance it had in its parents; with its parents. An ancient balance, one that could have belonged to all force-users if not for their arrogance.

"Yes," she whispered into the void. "I understand."

Sonsos was all around her. It was incredibly vast, so very old, much older than even Yoda, and his mind had been amazing already. Now she felt something no one had ever encountered before and it was… She shuddered. Alien, protective, hostile, curious, ready to strike should she threaten anyone protected by it, and so very, very powerful. There was a ferocity within, a primal thing that had nothing to lose except for those it called its own.

Millennia before her birth, the Jedi had gone one way, the Sith another, and those who were neither, those who wouldn't even be seen as anything but regular people without a shred of force talent, had been forgotten.

How many were out there? she wondered.

Countless, the entity answered.

How many could be found?

None if they didn't match.

Ahsoka felt a whisper of sadness. Such opportunity, such chances, such fates…

She opened her eyes.

And she found she had apparently collapsed to her knees, cushioned by a cluster of leafy growths. The cloak pooled around her like a white puddle and the vines were gently wrapped around both her lower arms.

The blue-eyed had closed the distance and just now kneeled down as well, those eyes reflecting so much worry and slight apprehension, he would really make a bad gambler, she mused faintly. All the wariness and slight hostility had made way for the worry, but it was still accompanied by a heavy dose of protectiveness.

The Mandalorian had moved into her field of vision, but keeping his distance, one hand resting on his blaster.

Ahsoka raised her brows as she discovered two more Mandalorians, both unknown to her, one of them being a heavy artillery infantry soldier from the looks of it. The other was more slender and not as tall. The heavy looking warrior was fully armed, right down to a gatling gun.

"I… I think that might have been a bit much?" the blue-eyed man said softly.

She smiled. "Yes. Even for a trained mind."

"Sorry."

"It was not your doing."

He gave her a smile and Ahsoka answered it. Despite the friendly expression he was still tense, ready to defend his family, and the Mandalorian's intensity hadn't lessened. The two new-arrivals didn't look relaxed and welcoming either.

"Uhm, the cavalry arrived because of your visit," she was told with a faint smile, apologetic again. "You visited the village and were seen coming here. So… the Covert sent back-up."

The large Mandalorian grunted. " _Jetii_."

"I'm not going to take your child from you or from this planet," Ahsoka said calmly.

"You better not. You'd have a whole tribe after you."

She inclined her head. "As well as a planet?"

The blue-eyed man smiled. "Yeah."

"I have never met such an entity as Sonsos and I never knew there was a… null zone to a force-sensitive's mind."

"Because your Order failed to teach it," the silver armored Mandalorian said evenly.

"I think the Jedi of old forgot about many things," she agreed. "Whether it was on purpose or not, I cannot say. Things… get lost. For one reason or another. Some things can never be found again. What your child found was something incredibly rare and precious for them."

The blue-eyed men regarded her solemnly. The thinned lips and still too tense posture told her he wasn't yet convinced she was absolutely harmless, and Asohka was anything but, but she knew, and he knew, she wouldn't make it three steps off this planet if the planet didn't want her to leave alive. Sonsos had made it very clear to her that she was only tolerated. For all her abilities, Ahsoka doubted she would make an impression in a fight against the force-sensitive organism.

"May I talk to your child?" she asked quietly, respectfully, still kneeling.

The Mandalorian's stance didn't give anything away and the other's face held an unreadable expression. The plant behind the Mandalorian rumbled, then leaned closer and almost butted the armored man in the shoulder. He cocked his head a little, as if listening, then his shoulders relaxed a little more. The blue-eyed man did the same.

"It is his decision," the blue-eyed man said. "And knowing him, he's curious and would want to meet you."

"And I very much want to meet him."

The heavy infantry Mandalorian shifted his weight a little, looking no less imposing and threatening than before. His partner had been silent the while time and showed no inclination to talk.

The only blue-eyed man got to his feet and held out a hand. Ahsoka was briefly surprised, then took it, letting him help her up. One vine fell away, the other was still wrapped around the forearm that wasn't touching this man.

The contact wasn't electric or sparked anything, but for a second had a sense of utter peace and balance. She felt her own powers quiet down, in tune with the cosmic field that was the Force, and she stared at him. A fine smile placed around his lips and he shrugged.

What…?

Sonsos seemed to whisper to her, told her that this was what had been, what could be if those of the Order and those of the not-Order allowed themselves to be what they weren't right now. This was what a null-zone did. The Mandalorian was the child's, but his husband was his balance in turn.

The second vine fell away and with it, the sensation was gone, even though he was still holding her hand.

Ahsoka stared at him and the man let go.

"This is… incredible," she murmured.

He said nothing, just cocked an eyebrow. She smiled.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more today :) I wanted to post the rest of this chapter, too, but I didn't have the time I needed or wanted to write it all out. *sighs*

In the jungle, Kai sat on a high-up branch, watching. He wasn't afraid of her, even though she wasn't clan, but he knew to be careful when his parents told him to be, and right now they had warned him to stay back. She felt actually quite… interesting; not dangerous. Not bad, like others who had tried to take him from his parents had been. He was fascinated by her white facial markings, those bright blue eyes, and how she was connected to the energy field like he was. Her aura was incredibly bright and strong, healthy and very much in tune with the energy around them.

She felt different from Sonsos and his parents, but still familiar.

The jungle was wary of her, primed to strike should she prove to be dangerous, while the child watched and waited, feeling the eddies of the force all around it shift back and forth.

When Sonsos touched her physically, Kai caught only a few random fragments, but he was aware she had lost much, still hurt from that, still had barely scabbed over wounds from seeing people she loved lose themselves, lose their lives. He shied away from that pain, unfamiliar with it, so different from what his parents had suffered in the past. It wasn't a physical wound, it was one of the mind.

The entity reached for the child, caressed it, gentle and reassuring. She was an injured soul, Sonsos told him. She had been wronged, had chosen her own path, and she had been forced to confront a friend who had fallen to the power Kai himself could access so easily.

The child chirped softly, sadly. While he was still too young to understand everything, he knew he was safe. Absolutely safe.

Sonsos agreed.

Kai moved closer to the where his parents and the stranger stood. He jumped from branch to branch, using the vines and broad leaves. It was one of the things Sonsos had taught him and which he had mastered just lately. He was small, growing slowly, but they had devised a way for him to use his abilities to quickly move away from a threat. His uncle Paz and the whole tribe had developed a parkour for him to use and Kai had always had fun. He had always been fast on his little feet, but now he knew how to put his abilities to good use, to be faster, more agile. Everything else was still tiring and usually knocked him out if he overdid it.

Now he watched the stranger, eyes narrowing as he caught her looking around, clearly scanning. Kai reached for his parents, felt Corin acknowledge the contact, and the reassuring warmth had him relax. His parents were his balance, his anchor, and Kai sat down, hidden within the trees. They were his center, his calmness, his control.

::Do you want to talk to her?:: Sonsos suddenly asked, a soft presence that assured the child he was absolutely safe.

He pondered the question, then nodded. She was interesting.

Kai got up and used the huge leafs and branches to easily jump toward the ground. Using the energy field, he concentrated on maneuvering himself downward. He still had to concentrate not to just loose his footing, but he was getting better. Vines accompanied his descent, ready to catch the agile little child just in case. He landed on the mossy ground with a little bounce, radiating satisfaction at the achievement.

The jungle opened up a little and he stepped outside, meeting those bright blue eyes without a shred of fear. Behind the woman, his parents were ready to intervene.

Seeing the child whose power she had felt was something of a surprise. Well, actually more of a shock. Ahsoka had only ever met one representative of that particular species and that had been one of the greatest Masters she had ever known. Someone whose powers had evenly matched even the darkest souls, someone who had trained countless Jedi in his lifetime, someone who had become one with the Force not too long ago. She knew this one was a very young one and if he was already this powerful, she didn't want to think about what he might become one day.

Especially with the bonds he had formed, with the two men who acted as his balance, and a force-sensitive entity that was as huge as a planet.

Swallowing her shock, fighting for composure she knelt down. "Hello. My name is Ahsoka Tano. And who might you be?"

The child blinked, large ears fanning out. It tilted his head, so small and unassuming, so precious and cute. It took in her calm aura, the way she was like him and not like him. Large, dark eyes studied her and she felt his muted presence, looking almost thoughtful. He was curious but careful, Ahsoka thought. And he was protected. By Sonsos and his parents. The fact that she hadn't been able to pick up on his presence was evidence enough.

He was too young to shield himself this completely, and even Masters could be felt to a degree, their presence detected. This one here… he was there, but Ahsoka could most likely only perceive him because the shield currently allowed it.

_Kaidjarin_ , he pushed through the Force.

She tilted her head in turn. _Kaidjarin?_

_Kai_ , was the slower answer. _Kai Djarin. Clan Djarin._

Ah.

It wasn't really a voice, then again it was. He wasn't talking. For whatever reason. His age? Other reasons?

"Hello, Kai. How very nice to meet you. I have met only one of your kind before."

"What?!" the blue-eyed man blurted. "You know what he is?"

She turned to look at him, those wide eyes giving away more than he probably wanted. This was a foundling, adopted by clan. This was his child, their child, and they had done so without prejudice, without knowing where he had come from, what or who he was. Just by his size alone she knew he was a toddler.

"I don't know the species. I never asked. It would have been impolite. He was a great Jedi. A Grand Master. He has passed since then, has become one with the Force."

The blue-eyed man stepped closer. "Uhm… are there more?" he asked and there was almost something like trepidation in his voice.

The three Mandalorians were watching them, all still strung tight enough to break.

"I don't know. I only ever met him. He is your foundling?"

"How… I mean, yes. He is our son."

She nodded, looking at Kai again. "Your connection to the Force is amazingly strong. For such a young age, it's unusual. As unusual as this whole place."

Kai scowled at her, not liking to be called unusual. He was Kai Djarin. That was all he was.

Ahsoka smiled as she picked it up. "Yes. Yes, that's all you are and so be it." She rose lithely, turning back to his parents. "I will leave you in peace. I'm not looking for students. I was merely interested."

"Others might be interested, too," the Mandalorian stated coolly.

"A lot is happening out there. The New Republic is busy. They… forget about things. About people." She smiled.

"About you?"

"Yes. Like I said, I left the Order. Those I knew back then have died, were killed… or have simply disappeared."

She fought down her emotions again. The Empire's Jedi Purge was still fresh on her mind. She had escaped, but seeing her friends and fellow Jedi die, slaughtered by the thousands, had left many scars.

Kai warbled and chirped, ears dropping as he apparently picked up on her remembered pain. She gave him a brief smile.

"Those who remained after the Empire's purge are few," Ahsoka told the child's parents. "They are young, mostly untrained. Busy picking up the pieces and restoring a new order. I doubt there will be new visitors any time soon. It took me years to find you."

The blue-eyed man looked indecisive, clearly chewing on all the information. Then something seemed to happen and he just exhaled with a nod. He approached her, loose and open, his formerly so cold features softening. The smile he gave her had her smile back. He held out his hand.

"Hello, Ahsoka Tano. My name is Corin Djarin. Welcome to Sonsos." He inclined his head toward the Mandalorian. "My husband. And two of the local tribe."

She clasped his arm in a warrior's greeting. "Thank you, Corin." She nodded at the others, too. " _Vor'e_ – thank you."

"Sorry about the reception." Corin's smile was apologetic.

"I understand. Your child is special."

The child in question cooed and gave her a smile, too.

"Can we invite you for dinner?" he wanted to know.

Ahsoka was astounded by the change in him, his sudden charm and warmth, and she felt taken in by it.

"I would be honored."

*

She stayed, but Ahsoka knew she wasn't meant to be here indefinitely. She had her path. It had led her here, but it wasn't the end of her journey.

Kai Djarin was a very special child and while she had known Master Yoda, this little one was nothing like him. The only thing they had in common was their species. Even their connection to the Force was different. He was still a toddler, yes, but so very different from many. He had a strong sense of family and clan, of his parents, of this planet.

She talked to his parents, mostly Corin, who was very interested to hear as much about Master Yoda as she possibly knew or was willing to tell him. He soaked up everything, asked interesting, to the point questions, and he wanted to hear whatever she was able to teach him about the Force and force-sensitives.

Kai sat on the porch, playing with a toy. He had eaten a whole bowl of mashed-up fruits and some crispy biscuits, then toddled off to entertain himself with whatever caught his attention. He had returned just a few minutes go, looking so smug, Corin had given him a narrow-eyed look.

"No one knows his species or race?" he asked, turning his attention to Ahsoka, sounding incredulous.

"No. I only know he was already very old when I met him. Hundreds of years old. I believe he died in his nine hundreds."

"Whoa…" he murmured, eyes wide.

"Force-wielders can grow very old, Corin," Ahsoka told him, picking on of the crispy treats from a bowl between them and eating it slowly. It was very tasty. "The more they are one with the energy they can access and use for their own growth, the more they influence their own life force and connect themselves to this eternal energy field."

He nodded.

"And your son is very much connected to the Force. You know he is very powerful for such a young being."

Those blue eyes were on the child in question. "We're… aware of it."

She smiled. "Relax. He's a great kid. You're doing just fine, which is mind-blowing all on its own. No one of such power has ever been this centered, balanced, and capable of using their abilities this early and without teaching. He owes that to his clan. The two of you. And he owes it to this world."

"So there's no knowledge whether or not his species is always force-sensitive?"

"No. Judging by generations passed, anyone of any race or species can be. We are all connected to this energy. Some can simply use it, others can't."

She inclined her head toward him.

Corin was silent, looking contemplative. Ahsoka knew little about the man, but she knew he wasn't a Mandalorian. Not really. Not in a way she knew them. He was Mandalorian many aspects. He spoke the language fluidly, he clearly respected the Way and the Creed, but he didn't wear the helmet. He was part of a clan, was married to a Mandalorian, clearly accepted by the tribe. She knew his husband was of the splinter group who never took off their helmets. A strict Creed, but one they had lived by ever since the loss of Mandalore.

Corin himself was… interesting, to say the least. Very interesting. He was open, friendly, listened to her explanations, and he was easy to talk to. He was clearly a former soldier, he moved like he had been trained, he wore the Mandalorian armor, and yet he didn't act like the rest of them. Whatever his past was, he didn't reveal it. He sometimes shied away from certain topics and she had suspicions after a while.

Former Imperial? she mused. If so, the connection between the two men and the child was all the more unique.

Those two were bonded; the Mandalorian way. They had a foundling in their care, a whole tribe had settled on this planet, and the planet itself would raise hell if anyone tried to take the kid. Or them.


	45. Chapter 45

"He's your first foundling?" she inquired.

Corin nodded.

"You have been married long," Ahsoka stated.

"Uhm…" He looked a little flustered all of a sudden.

"I did not want to pry. My apologies."

"Oh, no! No, no, it's okay to ask. It's just… There are no real seasons, aside from when the storms happen or the rain increases. I couldn't say how long we have been married or how long we've been on Sonsos."

That surprised her.

"We… don't really need to know how many years have passed. I mean… what for? There are no celebrations, no anniversaries… How long has it been since the Empire fell?" Corin asked, a little unsure.

"Ten Standard years."

"Oh."

She waited.

"Then we've been married for a little over three Standard years, I guess. Living here, too."

Ahsoka nodded. "You have raised him since then?"

"Yes."

"And you never left to go to other planets?"

"Aside from some side trips to Navwee? No. And that's only because it has snow." Corin smiled happily. "I love snow. Actually, I miss it sometimes. When I was stationed…" He stopped. "Well, I lived on snow planets in the past. This was… a change."

His past. His soldier past. Ahsoka more and more believed that he had been affiliated with the Empire. She also knew the Mandalorian's take on leaving one's past behind. Corin's didn't matter anymore.

"Not many come here."

"For a reason." His eyes hardened a little.

"I will not tell anyone about this." Ahsoka felt the increased attention of Sonsos, the massive entity suddenly so much sharper in her mind. "You are safe here. I will keep your secret."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I have nothing to gain from talking to others about where you live."

Corin just looked at her.

"If I had ill intentions, Sonsos would know."

"I guess."

"Is there a bounty on your heads?" she wanted to know, voice calm and very neutral.

He shrugged. "Not anymore, but I think the Imperial remnants would love to get their hands on Kai, on me, probably on the tribe…"

"You were a soldier once."

The blue eyes were distant, almost shielded.

" _Cin vhetin_ ," Ahsoka said.

Kai had gotten up and waddled over to Ahsoka, giving her an imploring look. She felt his question empathically and smiled softly. She picked him up, balancing him on one knee. He held on to one of her fingers and beamed at the fellow force-wielder, ears fanning out.

Corin scowled at him, getting a happy coo in reply.

"I have made many mistakes in my past, Corin. I'm not going to make another. It's an honor for me to be here, getting to know you and your family, your clan. And Sonsos."

"Thank you."

"Your child is a good judge of character. I can see that he adores you, loves you very much, just like your husband. I won't endanger that. I won't be the one responsible for your losing that. He needs you and you need him. You are perfectly balanced."

Ahsoka fought the old pain again. Small, green fingers tightened around her own and the little one gave her a warm look, one of support, one of understanding so far past what a child should be able to.

"Who did you lose?"

Corin's question startled her and she looked at him, momentarily fighting her own demons over whether or not to reveal just that.

"I… sorry. I know it's personal. Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't apologize. You can ask."

"You don't have to answer."

She regarded him silently. "I lost a friend. His name was Anakin Skywalker," she told them.

Kai was still on her lap, large eyes watching her with such a serious expression, Ahsoka felt her throat constrict just a little.

"He was my teacher. I was his padawan."

"That's Jedi for student, right?"

She smiled at him and Corin answered with one of those warm, wide smiles of his own. "Yes. A student training to become a Jedi Knight. Anakin was my mentor, my teacher. He was very strong with the Force. He rose to become one of the strongest Jedi in history. And then he fell to the Dark."

Kai made a soft, consoling noise and she took the small hand that reached for her.

"Sorry," Corin whispered. "I didn't want to bring back bad memories."

"You didn't. It happened a long time ago and I had to learn to live with it. There was a time I blamed myself for leaving him, but it wasn't just me. He lost a lot more after that, not just a padawan. He lost his wife, his children… or so he believed. I think it broke him, made it so much easier for him to succumb to the Dark."

She gently stroked a finger over one of the fanned, big ears.

"I thought Jedi didn't have, uhm, family?" Corin asked carefully.

"They shouldn't." Ahsoka met the child's dark eyes. "That's what the Jedi Order teaches us. Personal connections can weaken you. They make you vulnerable. They can destroy you. But they also make you stronger, give you something more, something precious and personal."

"He was just another bad example?"

She smiled humorlessly. "Fear of loss was always with him. He was so strong, so passionate and caring, but his past was filled with personal loss. So much that he fell when he lost his family. He loved her very much and hearing that she died was already bad. Knowing his children had died, too… that's what broke him. We met again, after his fall, but I couldn't get through to him. His hatred… it was too strong. It was all-consuming." She looked at the toddler on her lap. "It can't happen to you, little one, even if you are so very powerful as well, just like Anakin was."

He cooed. Ahsoka chuckled, tugging playfully at an ear. Kai squealed happily.

"He's precious, Corin. You are doing such a wonderful job."

"Without knowing what we're doing," he said wryly. "A force-sensitive child of an unknown species with an unknown origin. We don't even know if he ever had parents, if they are still out there, what he remembers, what he might become."

"You know it. Instinctively. It's not just about teaching a force-sensitive how to fight or develop all those abilities. It is about so much more. You give him stability, a family, someone to rely on. You teach him by being yourselves."

"Because we're null zones."

"Yes and no. Even if you don't know what his past was like, you gave him affection, you cared for him, and he bonded to you. Outside of the force bond he already had. Whether he remembers his birth parents, if he ever had them, or not, you are his anchors. Corin. You are his family."

His expression was so warm and full of love, Ahsoka knew that whatever happened, Kai was in the best possible environment for him. Corin might not be a Mandalorian, as he claimed, but he valued familiar bonds, he loved his son, and he was and probably had been ready to defend him with his life.

"You think finding someone like us would have helped your friend?" he suddenly asked.

She was silent for a lone while.

"Uhm, sorry again," he said.

She shook her head. "No. No, it's okay. Losing a friend is never easy. It stays with you for a long time."

He nodded and she saw the memories of loss in his expression, top.

"Maybe a null-zone would have helped. As a Jedi you're taught about balancing yourself, being aware of the power within you, within the galaxy, the Force that spreads everywhere and is within everything. You need to control your emotions, especially when you get stronger. It's a hard life, being a Jedi Knight. There is always temptation and such personal, intimate bonds, forming a family and having children, are frowned upon. Because losing what you love so much can unleash so much anger, so much darkness. Anakin… he had already experienced that darkness, had given in to it as a young man, and every time he lost what he had started to love, what he did love, it chipped away more and more of his control. That's why he was such easy prey to Palpatine."

Corin's features hardened a little, clearly reflecting his thoughts on that. "Who told him his family had died?"

Ahsoka gave him an appraising look. Yes, he was sharp. He understood. He knew.

"The one who wanted to use him, as he had used him already. Palpatine."

Corin's lips were thin, white lines.

"Your clan is your son's stability, Corin. Never doubt what it means to him to have his parents. I sincerely doubt he would grow in any other environment because of the bonds he made."

"He has a whole tribe."

Ahsoka had noticed that. And a tribe valued their clan foundlings.

"He's not a Jedi," she reassured him. "He's a force-sensitive foundling. Nothing more, nothing less. One day maybe a Mandalorian." Her lips twitched a little. "Your clan. Those who teach him, do well. Very well."

Corin took the child and held him close, drawing a happy warble. Those small, clawed fingers curled around the chest armor and Kai was cheerfully babbling at him. Ahsoka watched the smile on Corin's lips grow brighter, saw his demeanor change to that of a loving, protective father. Not just the anchor of a powerful child, but a true parent.

No, he wouldn't end up like her friend. Ever.

"The one you knew… that Grand Master… he spoke? In Basic? In audible words?"

Ahsoka nodded. "Yes. Kai can communicate through the Force."

"But he hasn't said a single word out loud. We thought the problem might be Basic, but he won't speak Mando'a either. He understands it, though."

"You say he is fifty years old?"

"We… think so."

"I know that Master Yoda started to teach when he was one hundred, so being fifty might be still very young. He might develop speech later."

"So there could be a sudden developmental burst?" Corin looked doubtful. "He hasn't even tried to imitate words."

Ahsoka watched the child as Corin set him back down. She didn't detect any trauma in him, despite everything he must have been through. He was healthy and whole, just didn't talk out loud.

"Maybe his species usually talks with their minds?" Corin hazarded a guess.

"I don't recall Master Yoda being telepathic. But there is nothing you know about your son's past. Maybe this is his way of communicating. Can he talk like this only to you two?"

He shook his head. "No. He doesn't do it all the time, but he can make himself understood with the tribe, too. And I have no idea how or even if he can really understand what he's saying, but his uncle seems to be aware of what he's babbling sometimes."

Ahsoka looked intrigued. "One of the tribe?"

Corin nodded.

"He might have a special bond to him, too."

"Paz is the one who teaches him all about Mandalorian weapons, history past and present, and he keeps measuring him up for a baby armor." Corin chuckled. "Not sure how serious he's about that, but knowing the guy, he really has his measurements all loaded in the Forge's data base, ready to go."

Ahsoka smirked. She knew how Mandalorians were about armor and teaching their children. He might just hand over the first armor as a gift as Kai came of age.

Kai burbled and gave her an expectant look, then toddled off.

"I think that's my cue," she said. "Let's see where we are going."

*

Going into the village with Corin opened her eyes to how connected he was to the people around him. Her first visit had given Ahsoka an idea that whoever came to this so very remote place and stayed, they had a reason. And they had left behind everything and with it also their past. Corin had confirmed it when she asked.

They greeted him in different ways, from openly waving or calling out, to simply nodding. He was a kind soul, a deep soul, one who was grounded in this world, who, despite not actively wielding any power, was powerful. Sonsos was always there, its presence in the background but close by nevertheless. It was what these people lived on, among and within. 

Corin simply knew everyone. And everyone knew him. No one cared who the other had been; only the Now counted. Ahsoka was seen as a visitor, a traveler passing through.

Corin's husband was the silent type, reserved, speaking few words, but he was always alert. He wasn't the stoic, battle-hardened hard-ass either. She felt the same sense of depth from him, this calmness inside that spoke of what he was to his son and this planet. He was just as loving and compassionate, with a laconic sarcasm that sometimes caught her unawares. 

If not for Corin referring to him as 'Din' she might still not know his name. It was amusing to see them as a unit, as functioning so seamlessly together, and seeing how different they were in so many aspects of their lives.

Ahsoka had no doubt that Din was very much in love with his Bonded, that he adored him, just like he loved and adored his foundling. It was in the way he moved, his body language clear in that regard while careful and close to shielded in others. She hadn't interacted with him a lot, but he was always around. Right now he was several steps back, keeping an eye on the very active child who was curiously inspecting a mountain of carpet-like cloth of one of the shop-keepers.

They ran into the blue-armored heavy infantry Mandalorian who looked like a battering ram. He sized her up and she knew he was scowling at her, despite the helmet hiding his features.

" _Aruteii_. You're still here," he growled.

Ahsoka inclined her head, ignoring the slightly insult-laden address. "I am. Sonsos has allowed me to stay."

"Sometimes it can be wrong."

Corin groaned silently. "Be nice."

"I am nice."

"Right."

"Sonsos extended a welcome. I don't intend to overstay it," Ahsoka said, privately amused.

"Yeah, you'd know when you have. It packs quite a punch. Took down an Imp ship and tore them apart."

"I have been told."

The Mandalorian looked at Corin, snorting. "You also tell her we don't take lightly to kidnapping attempts?"

"She's not here to take Kai away."

"She better not."

"She will not," Ahsoka commented with a mild smile.

"So what are you still doing here?" he demanded.

"She's our guest, Paz," Corin said evenly.

Ah. So this was the infamous uncle with a penchant for teaching toddlers about weaponry.

"She's a _jetii_!"

"Ahsoka was trained as a Jedi, but she left the Order."

"No difference."

"There is," Corin's eyes held a hard to interpret expression.

He grunted and shifted his stance a little, radiating distrust and barely restrained anger. "She has no business here."

"As I said, she's a guest. Of Sonsos. The planet approved of her."

It got her a snort.

"She's also not responsible for what happened to Mandalore," Corin continued with a slight edge to his voice. "Nor is she our enemy now."

"I lived on Mandalore before the Great Purge," Ahsoka said quietly, meeting the visored gaze openly and without fear. "I had friend there. Good friends."

"You lived on Mandalore?" Paz rumbled.

"Yes. I knew people." She wouldn't drop names because that would only be calling for attention. Maybe the wrong kind of attention. "I was still training as a padawan. I was young. Maybe seventeen." She smiled a little wistfully.

The Mandalorian studied her, still not the least bit relaxed, but she understood the guarded approach to her presence. She was an intruder, but she was also under constant guard from a whole planet. Sonsos had made it quite clear to her that it could end her within a minute.

"She's okay?" he finally asked Corin.

"Yes. And Kai loves her."

It got him a hum, then a nod. "Alright."

And that was that. Approval by the foundling apparently meant she wouldn't be pursued by the tribe.

"Ahsoka Tano, Paz Vizla," he introduced them.

She nodded at him and got only a grunt in return. Corin rolled his eyes when Paz accompanied them throughout the visit as he picked up a few things.

"Trade Day is coming up," he explained as they walked past many vendors and stalls.

"She's gonna stick around 'til Trade Day?" Paz asked gruffly, disbelief swinging in his tone.

"Yes," Corin answered patiently. "'She' is called Ahsoka Tano and if Ahsoka wants to stay until then, she can."

She watched them silently, reading the body language, seeing no threat and no true anger.

Paz hmpfed and kept following them like a vicious bodyguard. When Kai discovered the tall man, he burbled happily and Paz scooped him up with a rumbling laugh.

"Have you grown since last time?" he teased. "I think so. Point zero four inches?"

Kai cooed cheerfully.

"Just a little more and you can get your first armor fitted!"

"No," Din said, voice hard and relentless.

"Your father's a killjoy."

"He's too young to train, Paz."

"A real stick-in-the-mud," the larger Mandalorian continued, only looking at the child. "How about we take a look at what the medic's been cooking up? I hear it can explode if you mix it just right."

Corin was laughing silently, those eyes bright and alive, and Ahsoka shared his amusement. Paz was clearly gunning for a reaction from his fellow Mandalorian, but was also quite taken by Kai.

As he walked off, talking to the child in Mando'a, Din grunted a curse.

"I'll take his stupid head off one day," he snarled.

Corin winked at Ahsoka and nodded toward the local bar. Well, the only establishment that served any kind of drinks, so it might be a bar.

She accepted the unspoken invitation and Din followed them, clearly not happy about Paz's continued insistence to have the little one armed and armored.

The child found them somehow, simply appearing in the bar and warbling at Din, who picked him up with quite some relief in every line of his body.

"Paz's gonna flip," Corin murmured with amusement. "Then again, he knows the little guy is really quick."

Ahsoka only chuckled.


	46. Chapter 46

Their guest didn't spend the nights at the house. While Corin would have been fine with her in a guest room, possibly even in the child's room and Kai relocating to his parents – which he never minded at all – Din hadn't been happy about her presence. And Ahsoka seemed to understand his reluctance to have her around them all the time, have her around the child.

"She's not a bad person," Corin told him.

The helmet hadn't come off ever since her arrival, but that didn't stop Corin from reading his husband like an open book. He knew that tension, he knew there was a scowl behind that visor, and he knew Din was actively glaring.

"Sonsos hasn't eaten her yet," he added with a teasing smile.

The planet seemed to rumble in agreement. There was a heavy presence of sharp-toothed plants and razor-bladed vines, but nothing too aggressive, really. They both knew how fierce and lethal Sonsos could be, so this was actually… nothing at all.

Corin walked over to him and wrapped an arm around the stiff body, leaning in to gently rest his forehead against the silver helmet. Din relaxed after a while, hands resting on Corin's hips, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his pants.

"She won't take him away," he whispered roughly.

"No, she won't," Corin agreed. "And she doesn't want to. I trust my instincts in that matter. She's not bad. Not dark."

Din exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping as the last tension drained away.

Ahsoka had returned to her ship for the night and Corin planned to find her a room in the village or ask Vhon if he would let her stay at his place. The ship couldn't be all that comfortable and while there was no inn or hostel in the village, someone might rent a room. Corin knew someone who had spare rooms and might just let her stay for either trade or just payment.

"She's not," Din finally agreed.

Corin cupped the warm neck, felt the pulse underneath the cloth of the cloak wrapped around his shoulders and neck. Din gave a soft hum and leaned a little into the gentle contact, then sighed as Corin stroked his thumb along his jaw line.

"She's not," he echoed, voice low.

Sonsos did the same. ::She's not like other Jedi. She is open. She accepts::

"And she's a guest."

::Yes. Tolerated::

Corin smiled and heard Din's soft huff of amusement. Sonsos had a constant eye on her. Well, figuratively speaking. It had no real eyes, but its senses were quite acute. Wherever she went, the organism was everywhere around her.

He stepped back and curled a light hand around Din's wrist, giving him a quizzical look. The Mandalorian hesitated, then took slow steps forward as Corin led him to their bedroom.

He had to laugh as he found they had been expected.

"I thought I had put you to bed in your own room," Corin sighed, shaking his head.

Their son chirped, looking guilelessly at them. He had made a nest of blankets for himself and appeared very comfortable.

"And we need to talk about privacy," Din sighed.

Corin smiled as he watched him take off the helmet, those dark eyes alight with humor and the knowledge that their private time was over now. Kai warbled.

"You. In your own room," Din decided.

It got him a coo, but Kai slid off the bed, clutching his blanket and dragging it after himself as he waddled off.

"Huh," Corin wondered.

Dark eyes peeked around the corner of the door and Kai's large ears fanned out. He was clearly trying to wink and failing.

"Ah, damn… He's… he wouldn't…"

Din chuckled and pulled him close, pressing a kiss against the warm neck, teeth scraping over his skin.

"We have a very perceptive child."

A warm hand slid under his shirt and rested over the old scar on his stomach. Din brushed a thumb over the uneven marks.

"Right…" Corin shivered. "Uhm… you okay with him knowing what we're doing…?"

"Do you really think he doesn't know? Has never known?" Another little bite. "That child is perceptive."

"Uhm, you might have a point there…"

Din maneuvered them toward the bed, grinning. "I always do."

Corin stripped off his shirt to reveal naked skin. Din's hand stroked over the stomach and side, exploring and arousing in one.

He really wanted this man.

Right here. Right now!

*

Ahsoka didn't train with Kai or tried to teach him anything, but she spent as much time as she could with the little guy. He was a happy child, open like Corin, interested and curious, and still very much a baby. He didn't speak with her either, but communication through the Force was possible, though it took some getting used to.

They were outside, off the porch, and she had sat down on the bare ground cross-legged. The sun was up, but it wasn't too hot, and there was a slight breeze. Around her, bushes and low plants grew, not all of them an extension of this planet, but probably connected like all of it was. Ahsoka didn't even try to understand what Sonsos was. It was too big, too complex to understand.

"You are doing great," she told the child as she watched him play with his powers.

Better than any young student she had ever met. Better than any force-wielder. There was no doubt in him, no darkness. There was only this curiosity, this natural affinity to the Force, and he reminded her a lot of Anakin. Such a rare force-sensitive, filled with such potential, only without the void looming over and underneath him. Kai had a full emotional range, a growing understanding, but even small bouts of anger didn't result in imbalance.

A vine curled closer, then pushed the spiraling piece of wood a little further away. Kai smiled, eyes alight, and he pulled it back toward himself. The vine made a grab for it once more, and he moved it again.

Sonsos was teaching him, she mused, watching the game of tug. A whole planet. A sentient, intelligent being that was probably very much unique and no one had ever heard of it. She wondered what the Jedi of old would have made of this. What would Yoda have thought? Or Anakin? Would they have felt at home here? Would they have been tolerated or even accepted?

Probably not. Sonsos was very particular and if not for the welcome of the clan, Sonsos might not even have let her stay this long.

How much did it communicate with Corin or Din? How much was it always there, with them, in the background?

Kai concentrated and suddenly the piece of wood shot off. It was deftly and easily caught by a plant shooting out of the ground with a speed that startled her. Massive jaws chomped down in the toy. The child looked very pleased with himself. He hurried over to the plant, which then lowered its head and let go of the toy.

For anyone else it might look like a well-trained pet handing the toy back to its master. To Ahsoka it was a teacher and a student, done with one lecture and preparing for the next. She felt next to nothing from Sonsos as it came to the Force and the child was shielded, so it seemed he wasn't even a low level force-sensitive.

Yes, he was doing great. He would grow into someone in perfect harmony with the cosmic energy field.

This is what could have been, she realized. This is what might have been at the beginning as active force-wielders found solace and permanence in those who anchored them, knowing or not knowing what they were doing. It was a little painful to realize that they had lost all of that as the Jedi Order grew, as children were taught to harness their emotions, to be calm and even-minded, to not connect to anyone but another Jedi. Families were split apart as they saw their children leave. Jedi were denied families of their own.

And the Sith…

Ahsoka pushed it all away. Neither side had won in the end. There had been only pain, suffering and destruction.

There was a soft coo and she met the dark eyes, reflecting a maturity beyond the child's physical development. She smiled and brushed gentle fingers over one cheek.

"You will be a great person one day, Kai Djarin. You don't have to be a warrior or a leader. You already have a place and a family, a clan and a tribe who loves you."

He chirped, ears perking. She felt his mental touch and smiled more. He would be fine; just fine. Mandalorians valued family above all, fought for their clan, their people, and she knew there were enough out there for the religion and the Way to survive.

Sonsos agreed, sending a soft empathic wave through her. The tribe on this planet would flourish and always be safe here.

Talking about lightsabers had the Mandalorian on edge, clearly not in favor of this kind of weapon, but she explained it all nevertheless. She went deep into the connection of the sabers, the force crystal, the force-wielders. She told them about how the young students were guided to find their own Kyber crystal, to build their lightsaber and connect to their weapon, which was an extension of them and the Force they wielded. It would become very much part of them.

Ahsoka showed her own and Kai was immediately fascinated by the new toy that was also calling to him on a level on a force-sensitive could understand.

"No!" Corin exclaimed and snatched up the child as he tried to touch the glowing weapons. "Nope! Definitely not!"

It got him a chirp and an innocent look, then Kai looked at the sabers again. He was hanging over his father's arm, not the least bit afraid or startled. Actually, he was giggling joyfully.

"Not yours. Won't be yours either," Corin said sternly. "It's not a toy. Those belong to Ahsoka and she's not going to share them with you."

A stern look was directed her way and she almost laughed.

The large ears drooped a little. Kai made a sad chirp, but the mischievous light was hard to miss.

"Right," he muttered, not for one second believing in the chastised, innocent look. "It's bad enough that Paz keeps teaching him about things to shoot and stab with. Or measures him up for his first leather padding. You're not going to get lightsabers, _ad'ika_!"

Ahsoka chuckled at the final expression. "No child is given a lightsaber. No student is handed a Jedi's saber just like that either."

"Well, you've met his uncle, so you understand why I'm not really reassured by that. Last time he was here, he read him the user manual for short range concussion carbines."

"He is taught by the tribe."

"His uncle is a menace."

Ahsoka chuckled. "Isn't that the Mandalorian way?"

"No," Din said flatly. "That's Paz."

"And Paz is a menace," Corin added with a smile.

"He is a clan brother," she remarked. "Clan teaches foundlings."

"He's not getting any kind of weapons any time soon and that includes _jetii'kad_."

"He might never create one himself," she calmed him. "He is different. You are different. You are his serenity. The lightsaber is a weapon of offense and defense. Like your armor and your weapons are, Mandalorian. He will be what he chooses to be."

Din regarded her silently, body language giving nothing away. Finally he nodded.

Ahsoka had long since realized that Kai couldn't influence them because of the bond. Even if the child accidentally used its mind powers it wouldn't hurt them. Not to mention that beskar had quite a defensive effect on Jedi weapons, like so many Mandalorian weapons had been specifically created to be used against Jedi. Their shared history was a tumultuous and sometimes very hostile one. A lightsaber couldn't damage the Mandalorian steel. Actually, not much could.

Ahsoka could feel the weight of his assessing gaze on her. "A _jetii'kad_ is a Jedi weapon," he remarked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"You claim you aren't of the Order anymore."

Ahsoka smiled, nodding again. "Using a lightsaber doesn't make me a Jedi, nor does leaving the Order require that one has to also leave their lightsaber. Not all Mandalorian clans use beskar either."

Kai warbled and gave her an imploring look. Ahsoka chuckled. Corin groaned and hoisted him higher.

"I'm not going to teach him how build his own lightsaber."

"I'd appreciate that."

She almost laughed at the dry remark.

The child was finally set down and he toddled over to her, looking up the taller woman.

"You heard your parents, little one. No. It's not for you."

He looked a little disappointed, but not for long. Something caught his attention and Ahsoka raised his brows as he started to chase a lizard.

"Don't ask," Corin groaned. "Please. Don't."

So she didn't.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter... yes, I know... I'm feeling a bit blue myself. I had so much fun with this, but I don't want to drag this out until everyone's bored of it. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Should the muse strike me, I'll write some more. Right now my brain's powering down and taking a breather! I also hope I did LadyIrina's AU justice. I took this on a wild ride, veering off from her stories before Family and Home, hoping I wouldn't distort it too badly.
> 
> I had only planned a few chapters. I ended up with this monster... But that's my writing life.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and commenting! It really pushed me on and kept me sharp. :) You're all amazing!

Throughout her stay, Ahsoka spoke about the various Mandalorians she had met in the past, her friends, her allies, those she hadn't seen in a long time, those she had never seen again, those she might see again one day. She never went into detail, unless asked, and Corin knew there was a lot of backstory, that some names meant more to a Mandalorian than to him, and some others he vaguely recognized from having read them in the history files on the datapad.

He really liked their visitor. She was kind, respectful, willingly answered his questions about Kai's kind, his possible powers, and everything else when it came to the Force. Sometimes the topic touched the fate of that friend of hers who had fallen to the Dark, that his children had survived, that they had grown up without knowing their true heritage, who their parents had been.

Corin knew she wouldn't, couldn't, stay. While Sonsos tolerated her, the planet wasn't all that much at ease. It knew her past, the entity had told him, and it knew her pain and loss. Still, she wasn't one to remain in this place.

::She is not unpleasant for a Jedi:: the organism said. ::She shows respect. She understands. But she cannot stay::

"I know," he said.

::You like her::

"Yes."

::Your instinct::

He shrugged. Maybe.

::Definitely. Both of you have that instinct. This is not her home, though::

A plant curled closer, the vine brushing over Corin's wrist in an almost apologetic gesture. He smiled.

"No, it isn't."

*

It was on the day she announced she would leave soon that Raga came to the farm, bringing a message from the Armorer herself. She would want to meet the guest before she left.

Ahsoka accepted.

Din and Corin stayed as she rode on kyio-back toward Mar'eyce with Raga as her guide. The Mandalorian tribe had acquired several of the animals from Vhon, who had happily instructed them in their care. They were useful to get around on rougher terrain where machines might labor and even fail. Raga had taken to riding like a natural while Paz preferred the Rising Phoenix.

"Any idea?" Corin asked.

"No," was the quiet answer.

Din was burning with curiosity, but he didn't elaborate, nor did he follow.

Corin accepted it and walked back into the house, keeping half a mind on where Kai was exploring the jungle. He couldn't keep their son out of the jungle, but he was always assured that he was fine by the jungle itself.

A deal made a long time ago was still a deal.

An arm wrapped around his waist and he was pulled back against a hard body. The hand that pushed down his front and wrapped around him had him momentarily lose connection to his brain.

"Ngh… Din!" he choked.

"Objections?" the Mandalorian teased.

"Hell no!"

Din fondled him, teasing, stroking… and Corin pushed into the hold, wanting more.

"Bed?" his husband murmured, still in full armor, still with the helmet on..

Another squeeze, then suddenly Din's hand was inside his pants.

"Not if you continue doing this!" he managed.

It got him a hum.

"Evil," Corin groaned, head falling back against the other man's shoulder. "So evil…"

They made it to bed, but only for round two. Corin was a limp, spent puddle of goo and he hated how Din was still playfully running his hands and fingers over very sensitive places.

"You want to kill me?" he sighed.

"Hm, no. Where would be the fun in that? Just… taking advantage of an opportunity…"

"Ah."

Din's smile was mischievous. He stopped the teasing and kissed him, Corin wrapping his arms around the warm, hard body. The kiss was soft, searching, expressing more than just sexual desire. Corin almost lost himself in the warmth and intensity that was his Mandalorian.

"How about a shower, food, and then we'll see what happens?" he murmured, fingers carding through the wavy dark hair. He felt a little dazed.

Din leaned into the caress like an oversized tookra. "Sounds good."

Corin felt something inside him of him unravel, felt his soul surge forward, wanting this man so badly. Not just physically. Their connection had grown so very much deeper and Corin knew it was because of who and what they were, their place within this network of force energy.

*

Kai was suspiciously absent until sundown. Corin found him sitting on the porch, playing with one of those four-legged plant things that looked like a nightmarish version of an eyeless, green, spikey wolf. They hadn't been around a few times and Corin had gotten used to them, but seeing one getting skritches from their son was still somewhat new.

Large eyes regarded his parents, the child looking so innocent Corin knew it was fake. Sonsos was also very suspiciously silent in the back of his head. Whatever those two had been up to, at least their son didn't look like he had had a happy romp in some mud pit or pile of sticky leaves and over-ripe berries.

The plant-creature gave them a toothy smile as it slowly got up and sauntered off.

Kai warbled, smiling happily, and Corin rolled his eyes. Yeah. He was a little too perceptive and it wasn't like Kai hadn't tried to get them together before either man had really made the conscious choice.

"Little menace," Corin sighed fondly.

It got him a smile.

"Hungry? Or did you eat your weight in small wildlife again?"

Denial floated along the force-bond, but Corin didn't believe him for a moment. Din stepped out, too, helmeted and in armor. He tilted his head a little and Kai burbled.

It got him a sigh.

Corin smiled. "Time to get washed up," he decided.

Their son followed without complaint, waddling after his parent.

They spent the evening curled on the large couch, Kai already nodding off between them, and Corin put him to bed not much later.

Din was an inviting sight as he returned, dressed only in a loose shirt and pants, and Corin wondered if there was something in the air. Because he would never tire of seeing that man in all kinds of state of dress and undress.

Din stretched, the shirt riding up and revealing stomach skin. His smile was unrepentant, the expression in the dark eyes knowing.

"You drive me crazy," he told his husband as he straddled him. "Absolutely crazy."

*

Ahsoka returned the next day, again accompanied by a Mandalorin, though this time it wasn't Raga. Corin recognized Waisken and gave him a nod in greeting. The Mandalorian was mostly decked out in heavy, dark brown and well-used leather and dark green armor.

" _Olarom_ \- welcome," Corin greeted him with a smile. "Thanks for accompanying our guest."

"My honor," Waisken replied, hands resting on the saddle horn. "Nice day out and I need to pick up a few things in town."

He picked up the reins from the second kyio Ahsoka had ridden, then waved as he turned to head for the village.

The force-wielder looked calm and relaxed, a fine smile playing over her lips as Corin shot her a quizzical look.

"The tribe's chief and I had a good talk."

"Ah."

Her smile grew. "She is an interesting person. A strong leader. As head of a whole Mandalorian village she was interested in getting to know a visitor, even if the visitor is a force-user. She never met a Jedi or Sith, but she knows about us."

Corin nodded.

"I've known a lot of Mandalorians since my childhood. Your tribe's Creed is different from those and I wanted to know more. So we talked. It was quite eye-opening and I understand more now."

She inclined her head toward Din, who was his usual silent and guarded self. He just nodded back.

"The settlement is prospering. It's a strong place of a strong clan. They are doing well here and they are your support, as you are the representatives of Sonsos. Aliit."

"You haven't met any others since… since the Purge?" Corin asked softly.

"Not many. Not a whole clan, let alone a tribe like this one. But there are still many out there, fighting to survive, to stay alive. Many serve as hunters like you did, Din Djarin."

"Survival," he simply said.

"And Mandalorians are survivors. I'm happy to know that there is a flourishing settlement here, protected and safe. I will take my leave now." Ahsoka looked calmly at them. "I might outstay my welcome otherwise."

Corin protested, shaking his head, but he felt a little shiver from Sonsos. It wasn't attack-happy, nor would it hurt her, but it wasn't lenient enough to allow her to stay indefinitely.

A planet pushed out of the ground, impressive, maw full of sharp teeth, vines curling around it with glinting, razor-sharp growths.

"You have been very patient," Ahsoka addressed it, bowing her head. "I thank you. I understand that my presence here is disconcerting for a being that is so closely interwoven with the Force."

It rumbled, leaning down, close to her, as if inspecting the former Jedi. Ahsoka faced it without a shred of fear and when one of the vines touched her arm, she didn't flinch.

"You can come back and visit," Corin offered.

She nodded once. "I will." Her eyes fell on the small child and she knelt down, holding out a hand.

Kai wrapped stubby fingers around her index finger. He looked a little forlorn.

"Take care, little one. _Ret'urcye mhi_ – Maybe we'll meet again."

He chirped, eyes large and serious.

"You are in good hands. Your family is amazing. They will always protect you."

Kai trilled softly.

"And you have a whole tribe. You can be whoever you want to be." She rose and looked at Corin. "Take care, Corin Djarin."

Corin echoed her good-bye as she took his hand. "Take care, Ahsoka Tano. Thank you for everything."

" _K'oyacyi_ – Stay alive," Din told her softly.

" _K'oyacyi_ ," Ahsoka answered. She met the bright blue eyes, smiled at Corin. "Good-bye."

"Save travels," he replied. "And should ever be in the vicinity…?"

"I will ask to visit. Thank you." Ahsoka looked at the plant again. "I appreciate the hospitality extended to me."

The empathic wave was felt by everyone and she inclined her head.

Corin felt the unwavering connection, strong and alive, grounding him, reassuring him. The way Din's body shifted, he felt it, too.

They accompanied her to her ship and Corin waved a little as the ramp closed. The child was in Din's arms, watching silently, face still very serious. Corin stroked over one ear.

The ship lifted off and they watched it until it was gone.

Kai sighed almost wistfully.

Corin smiled at his son. "She'll be okay. And it was nice having a visitor, hm?"

He warbled.

Din set him down and he walked ahead of them, the two men adjusting their pace to his speed.

"Want to visit Mar'eyce?" Corin asked conversationally.

Din glanced at him. "Sure."

Kai was in full agreement, ears perked. Both his parents knew he was looking forward to playing with the other foundlings, but also his uncle.

"Yeah, right," Din muttered.

Kai's smile was innocent.

*

As Sonsos fell away from below her, Ahsoka closed her eyes, felt the presence of the Force all around her. She felt the reassuring energy, calming her mind, filling her soul.

*

Ahsoka Tano kept her word. She never told anyone about what and who she had found, where she had found them. Sonsos was a secret she kept.

The New Republic didn't come looking, nor did anyone ever snoop around Nevarro. Greef Karga wasn't exactly a trusted ally, but Din knew he had no reason to lie or to sell them out to the New Republic. Infrequent visits to Nevarro gave them no reasons to worry about their safety.

As time passed, Sonsos disappeared off the maps. Those that still featured the planet, held an extreme warning. The planet was life-threatening. Dangerous. Lethal. Absolutely forbidden and anyone who was caught with its coordinates would face consequences.

The warnings spread like wildfire, stories becoming more convoluted the longer they ran. In the end it was said that Sonsos had devoured a Death Star. Din had laughed at the very idea, shaking his head. The entity itself had been just as amused.

With the evidence of failed Imperial explorations and the many others over the years, those warnings were taken seriously by any sane person. The few more adventurous types that usually came once or twice a year were quickly driven away. No new settlers arrived.

The Covert grew. The tribe prospered, but they didn't change their Creed. The helmets stayed on. Mar'eyce was part of Sonsos, like every single one of the few villages the planet had allowed. The Mandalorians lived in a symbiosis with the planet, respecting the indigenous life-form that could easily kill any and all of them should it grow tired of them.

But it didn't.

Respect had been earned and given freely in turn. Respect was there on both sides.

Their protection was taken seriously. And those who sometimes went off-world for various reasons kept spreading wild tales and warning off those who might want to try themselves against a whole planet.

Corin stood on the porch, looking out over what was his home. Not just the land, but everything. A whole world. He felt it thrum through him, a connection that had grown over the years.

Din was next to him, a solid presence, as grounded on and in this world as Corin himself was.

So much had changed and yet, they hadn't. Not in the past years. Maybe they never would. Connected to this planet in a way he still didn't understand, part of an intricate network, part of the force energy all around them, and yet still not the slightest bit talented to be active users. Just null zones and yet so important to both their son and the entity that was Sonsos.

He had been so lucky. So very, very lucky. To meet this man, to meet the child. No matter how much pain had followed that first meeting, how much hardship, how much doubt had eaten away at his mind, Corin knew he had been extremely lucky.

It seemed like his whole life had led him to this point, to that moment in his life where he had helped his target and the asset first survive the cold and then escape from capture. If he had made just a single different decision he might either be dead today or Kai might be in Imperial hands. And Din might be dead. All of that was a source of nightmares, but he didn't let it linger on his mind.

Too much time had passed. Too much had happened.

Corin also knew that unrest was growing among the Imperial remnants, that soldiers defected, that he was cited as a bad and a very good example in one.

He didn't want to make anything of it. He didn't want to go out there and lead a rebellion.

Someone else would do it.

He had another duty. He was Corin Djarin now, he had a clan, he had a husband and son.

The hiss of a Rising Phoenix alerted them to the return of Paz, who was bringing back their son. He landed gracefully and Kai climbed out of the special harness, dropping easily to the ground without harming himself.

Corin raised an eyebrow at the blue-armored Mandalorian. Even though he couldn't see his face, he knew Paz was smiling devilishly.

"What?" the large man asked, laugher clearly in his voice.

Kai proudly looked up at his parents, wearing a tiny leather chest plate that was loosely fixed around the robes he usually preferred. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves and Corin saw similar gloves for his feet, leaving the clawed toes free. The little one had had a growth spurt, though in his case that ment about an inch and that was that. He still looked like a baby, he still didn't talk out loud, though his mental projection was more refined now.

The outfit that Paz had gifted him was nothing but a very toned down version of a foundling's first protective padding.

"Right," Din said neutrally.

Corin chuckled. "Looking good, kiddo."

Right? Kai projected, puffing out his little chest. _Beskar'gam_.

"Yeah, that's some kind of _beskar'gam_ alright. Let's see if we can adjust the rest of your clothes to fit your first armor."

_Dad and Uncle Paz going to fight?_

"Probably."

Kai looked at the two Mandalorians, then shrugged and went after his other parent.

Corin chuckled at the easy acceptance. They both knew that any scuffle those two might have was just good-natured hair-pulling of the Mandalorian kind. No harm would be done and Corin wouldn't have to pick up any parts.

_Do I tell dad about training?_

Corin stopped short, brows drawn down over suddenly very humorless, blue eyes. Kai's ears drooped and he had a guilty look in his own eyes.

"Training? What training?"

Speed, agility, hiding, being invisible, his son projected without using words. The same Sonsos was teaching him. Just… the Mandalorian way.

"Yes," Corin said slowly. "We tell him. No weapons, Kai. None at all!" he ordered sternly.

Kai nodded sagely. _No weapons_.

Not that he was without defenses. He was a force-wielder, Corin thought with resignation. He didn't need weapons with the way he could handle that energy. And while Paz was loud and obnoxious and loved to tease them with what he was teaching their son, he adhered to that rule, too. No weapons of any kind for a baby. 

From outside came a loud bang of metal hitting metal, a grunt, then a guffaw of laughter. He smirked.

Just a normal day.

Fin!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Our dear boys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905074) by [Aeriels_Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriels_Stories/pseuds/Aeriels_Stories)




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